COLLECTION ANGLAISE , 

o u 
CHOIX DE MORCEAUX 

EXTRAITS DE DIVERS AUTEURS, 

A Tusage de ceux qui veulent apprendre 
i'Anglais. 

Par TH, W. 



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ENGLISH COLLECTION 

O R 

CHOICE OF EXTRACTS 

FROM SEVERAL AUTHORS, 

For the use of those , who desire to improve 
the knowledge of the English language* 

Bx TH. W. 



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Printed for Cormon and Blanc. 

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TABLE 

07 



'V bon Sens. P a ge i 

De V Etude. 3 

De V Esprit satiricjiie. 4 

La sensibilite. 6 

La liber te et Vesclavage. 7 

His to ire de Lefevre. 9 

Le comte Arundel propose , etc* 25 

j&loge de la Vertiu 5o 

Sur le Bonheur. 52 

De la Modestie. 4° 

De la bonne Education. 45 

De la proprete. 5i 

De V elegance de V expression. 5a 

Du choix de la socie'te. 5 7 

£)« Commerce et des Arts. 61 

De Vinegalite des rangs. 66 

De Dieu. 68 

Si Vestime doit etre considered , etc. 74 

Naissance de Gil Bias. 81 

Gil Bias part pour Salamanque. 84 

Gil Bias arrete par des voleurs* < 9? , 

Description de la cay erne , etc. $ 100* 

Arrivee d autre s voleurs r etc. i©4 

Tentative de Gil Bias. ii5 

De ce que fit Gil Bias. 120 

Gil Bias accompagne les voleurs. ?25 

Affaire serieuse , etc. 127 
Comment se comporterent les voleurs* i5o 

Histoire de la dame Mencia* 159 



vj TABLE. 

De quelle maniere desagreable , etc* i5o 

Comment Gil Bias sortit de la prison. i55 

Reception que fit a Burgos , etc. 160 

JNouveaux pre sens , etc. 166 

Description de Botany Bay* 172 

Du port Jackson. 17S 

De la Chine. 187 

Description de Pekin* 192 

De Calcutta* j y5 

£te Madras. 198 

Description de Londres, 202 

Description de Paris. 212 

Constantinople. 216 

■Etes Pyr amides d' Egypt e* 219 

Execution de Marie , e/c 223 

Conquete du Mcxique. 256 

Portrait de la famille de TV ake field. 261 

Malheur de la famille de JVakefield. 266 

.La famille change de demeure. 272, 

La famille trouve le bonheur , e/c. 28S 

D<? I' amour conjugal. 287 

JDes affections de parente* 291 

Dp V amour filial. 294 

De T amour fraterneL 5or 

D ? V am' tion. . 5o6 

jDe /a bienfaisance. 5 1 4 

/)<? /a clemence. 620 

Z)<? /a compassion. 5i>5 

JVaixsance de Robinson , £/c. 529 

Fin de la Table. 

COLLECTION 



COLLECTION ANGLAISE , 

O U 

CHOIX DE MORCEAUX 

EXTRAITS J>E DIVERS AUTEURS ANGLAIS. 



Du bon Sens* 

W ere I to explain what I understand by 
good sense , I should call it right reason ; but 
right reason that arises not from formal and 
logical deductions , but from a sort of intuitive 
faculty in the soul , which distinguishes by im- 
mediate perception : a kind of innate sagacity, 
that in many of its properties seems very much 
to resemble instinct. It would be improper , 
therefore, to say, that Sir Isaac Newton shewed 
his good sense, by those amasing discoveries 
which he made in natural philosophy ; the 
operations of this gift of Heaven are rather 
instantanious than the result of any tedious 
process. Like Diomed , after Minerva had 
indued him with the power of discerning gods 
from mortals , the man of good sense disco- 
vers at once the truth of those objacts he is 
most concerned to distinguish ; and conducts 
himself with suitable caution and security. 

It is for this raason , possibly, that this qua- 
lity of the mind is not often found united with 

A 



(2) 

learning as one could wish;for good sense being 
accustomed to receive her discoveries without 
labour or study, she cannot so easily wait for 
those truths , which being placed at a distance, 
and lying concealed under numberless covers , 
require much pains and application to unfold. 
But though good sense is not in the number, 
nor always, it must be owned, in the com- 
pany of the sciences ; yet is it ( as the most 
sensible of poets has justly observed ) 
* fairly worth the seven. ' 

Rectitude of understanding is indeed the most 
useful , as w^ell as the most noble of human 
endowments , as it is the sovereign guide and 
director in every branch of civil and social 
intercourse. 

Upon whatever occasion this enlightening 
faculty is exerted , it is always sure to act 
with distinguished eminence ; but its chief and 
peculiar province seems to lie in the commerce 
of the world. Accordingly we may observe 
that those who have conversed more with 
men than with books ; whose wisdom is de- 
rived rather from experience than contem- 
plation \ generally possess this happy talent 
with superior perfection. For good sense 
though it cannot be acquired , may be im- 
proved ; and the world , I believe , will 
ever be found to afford the mots kindly soil 
for its cultivation. 

Mel moth. 



(3) 
De V Etude. 

Studies serve fort delight , for ornament , 
and for ability. The chief use for delight is in 
privateness and retiring \ for ornament , is in 
discourse ; and for ability ? is in the judgment 
and disposition of business. For expert men 
can execute , and perhaps judge of particulars 
one by one j but the geneial counsels, and the 
plots , and marshalling of aftairs , come best 
from those that are learned. To spend too 
much time in studies is sloth ; to use them too 
much for ornament is affectation ; to make 
judgment wholly by their rules is the hu- 
mour of a scholar. They perfect nature , and 
are perfected by experience ; for natural abi- 
lities are like natural plants, that need pru- 
ning by duty , and studies themselves do give 
forth directions too much at large , except 
they De bounded in by experience. Crafty 
men contemn studies , simple men admire 
them , and wise men use them : for they teach 
not their own use , buth that is a wisdom 
without them , and above them , won by ob- 
servation. Read not to contradict and con- 
fute , nor to believe and take for granted 9 
nor to fin J talk and discourse , but to weigh 
and consider. Some books are to be tasted 9 
others to be swallowed 9 and some few to 
be chewed and digested ; that is , some books 
are to be read only in parts ; others to be 

A 2 



(4) 

read but not curiously ; and some few to be 
read wholly , and with diligence and atten- 
tion. Some books also may be read by de- 
puty , and extracts made of them by others ; 
but that should be only in the less important 
arguments , and the meaner sorts of books j 
else distilled books are like common distilled 
waters , flashy things. Reading maketh a full 
man ; conference a ready man ; and writing 
an exact man. And therefore, if a man write 
little , he had need have a great memory ; if 
he confer little , he had need have a present 
wit ; and if he read little , he had need have 
much cunning to seem to know that he doth 
not. 

Bacon. 

De VEsprit satirique* 

— Trust me, this unwary pleasantry of 
thine will sooner or later bring thee infb scra- 
pes and difficulties , which no after wit can 
extrincate thee out of. In these sallies , too 
oft I see , it happens , that the person laughed 
at considers himself in the light of a person 
injured, with all the rights of such a situation 
belonging to him , and when thou viewest 
him in that light too , and reckonest upon 
his friends , bis family , his kindred and 
allies , and musterest up with them the many 
recruits which will list under him from a 
«ense of common danger $ 'tis no extravagant 



( 5) 

arithmetic to say , that for every ten Jokes 9 
thou hast got an hundred enemies ; and , till 
thou hast gone on , and raised a swarm of 
wasps about thine ears , and art half stung 
to death by them , thou wilt never be con- 
vinced it is so. 

I cannot suspect it in the man whom I es- 
teem , that there is the least spur from spleen 
or malevolence of intent in these sallies. I 
believe and know them to be truly honest 
and sportive ; but consider , that fools cannot 
distinguish this , and that knaves will not ; 
and thou knowest not what it is , either to 
prov i<e the one, or to make merry w 7 ith 
the other ; whenever they associate for mu- 
tual defence , depend upon it they will carry 
on the war in such a manner against thee my 
dear friend , as to make thee heartily sick 
of it , and of thy life too. 

Revenge from some baneful corner shall 
level a tale of dishonour at thee , which no 
innocency of heart or integrity of conduct 
shall set right. The fortunes of thy house 
shall totter — thy character , which led the 
way to them , shall bleed on every side of 
it — thy faith questioned — thy w^orks belied— 
thy wit forgotten-— • thy fe learning trampled on. 
To wind up the last scene of thy tragedy , 
Cruelty and Cowardice , twin ruffians , hi- 
red and set on by Malice in the dark , shall 
strike toghether at all thy infirmities and mis- 
takes j the best of us , my friend , lie open 

A3 



(6) 
there , and trust me — when to gratify a pri- 
vate appetite , it is once resolved upon , that 
an innocent and an helpless creature shall 
be sacrificed , it is an easy matter to pick up 
sticks enough from any thicket where it has 
strayed , to make a fire to offer it up with. 

Sterne. 

La Sensibilite. 

Dear Sensibility ! source inexhausted of all 
that's precious in our joys 9 or costly in our 
sorrows j thou chainest the martyr down upon 
his bed of straw 9 and it is thoa who liftest 
him up to heaven. Eternal fountain of our 
feelings ! It is here I trace thee , and this is 
thy divinity which stirs within me : not , 
that in some sad and sickening moments y 
'my soul shrinks back upon herself, and star- 
tles at destruction* •—- mere pomp of words ! 
■— but that I feel some generous joys and ge- 
nerous cares beyond myself— all comes from 
thee , great , great Sensorium of the wocld ! 
which vibrates , if a hair of our head but falls 
upon the ground , in the remotest desert of 
thy creation. Touched with thee , Eugenius 
draws my curtain when I languish ! hears my 
tale of symptoms , and blames the weather 
for the disorder of his nerves. Thou givest a 
portion of it sometimes to the roughest pea- 
sant who traverses the bleakest mountains. 
— He finds the lacerated lamb of another's 



(7 ) 
flock. This moment I beheld him leaning with 
his head against his crook , with piteous in- 
clination looking down upon it , — • Oh ! had 
I eome one moment sooner ! — it bleeds to 
death — his gentle heart bleeds with it. 

Peace to thee generous , swain ! I see thou 
walkest off with anguish — but thy joys shall 
balance it ; for happy is thy cottage , and 
happy is the sharer of it , and happy, are the 
lambs which sporth about you. Stebne. 

La Liberie et VEsclavage. 

Disguise thyself as tou wilt , still , Sla- 
very I still thou art a bitter draught ; and 
though thousands in all ages have been made 
to drinck of thee , thou art no less bitter on 
that account. It is thou , Liberty , thrice 
sweet and gracious goddess , whom all in 
public or in private worship , whose taste is 
grateful , and ever will be so , till nature her- 
self shall change — no tint of words can spot 
thy snowy mantle , or chymic power turn 
thy sceptre into iron — with thee , to smile 
upon him as he eats his crust , the swain is 
happier than his monarch , from whose court 
thou art exiled. Gracious Heaven ! grant me 
but health , thou great Bestower of it , and 
give me but this fair goddess as my compa- 
nion ; and shower down thy mitres if it seems 
good unto thy divine providence , upon those 
heads which are aching for them. — 

A4 



(8) 

Pursuing these ideas , I sat down close by 
my table , and leaning my head upon my 
hand , I began to figure to myself the miseries 
of confinement. I was in a right frame for it, 
and so I gave full scope to my imagination. 

I was going to begin with ihe millions of 
my fellow-creatures born to no inheritance 
but Slavery ; but finding , however affecting 
the picture was , that I could not bring it 
nearer me ? and that the multitude of sad 
groups in it , did but distract me. — 

I took a single captive , and having first 
shut him up in his dungeon , I then looked 
through the twilight of his grated door to 
take his picture. 

I beheld his body half wasted away with 
long expectation and confinement , and felt 
what kind of sickness of the heart it was 
which arises from hope deferred. Upon loo- 
king nearer , I saw him pale and feverish ; 
in thirty years the western breeze had not 
once fanned his blood — he had seen no sun, 
no moon in all that time — noor liad the voice 
of friend or kinsman breathed through his 
lattice. His children. — 

But here my heart began to bleed — and I 
was forced to go on with another part of the 
portrait. 

He was sitting upon the ground upon a 
little straw , in the furthest corner of his dun- 
geon , which was alternately his chair and 
bed : a little calendar of small sticks were 



(9) 
laid at the head , notched all over with the 
dismal days and nights he had passed there 

— he had one of these little sticks in his hand, 
and with a rusty nail he was etching another 
day of misery to add to the heap. As I dar- 
kened the lttle light he had , he lifted up a 
hopeless eye towards the door , then cast it 
down — shook his head , and went on with 
his work of affliction. I heard his chains upon 
his legs , as he turned his body to lay his little 
stick upon the bundle — He gave a deep sigh 

— I saw the iron enter into his soul — I burst 
into tears — I could not sustain the picture of 
confinement which my fancy had dravwn. 

Sterne. 

Histoire de Lefevre. 

It was some time in the summer of that 
year in which Dendermond was taken by the 
allies , — which was about seven years before 
my father came into the country— and about 
as many after the time that my uncle Toby 
and Trim had privately decamped from my 
father's house in town , in order to lay some 
of the finest sieges to some of the finest forti- 
fied cities in Europe — when my uncle Toby 
was one evening getting his supper, with 
Trim sitting behind him at a small sideboard 5 

— The landlord of a little inn in the village 
came into the parlour with an empty phial 
in his hand to beg a glass or two of sack \ 'Tis 

A5 



( io) 
for a poor gentleman , — I think , of the 
army , said the landlord , who has been taken 
ill at my house four days ago , and has never 
held up his head since , or had a desire to taste 
any thing , till just now , that he has a fancy 
for a glass of sack and a thin toast, — I think 9 
says he , taking his hand from his forehead , 
it would comfort me. 

— If I could neither beg , borrow, or buy- 
such a thing , — added the landlord , — I 
would almost steal it for the poor gentleman r 
he is so ill. — I hope in God he wil still mend 
continued he — we are all of us concerned 
for him. 

Thou art a good-natured soul , I will answer 
for thee , cried my uncle Toby ; and thou shall 
drink the poor gentleman's health in a glass 
of sack thyself , — and take a couple bottles 
with my service, and tell him he is heartily 
welcome to them , and to a dozen more if they 
will do him good. 

Though I am persuaded , said my uncle 
Toby , as ihe landlord shut te door, he is a 
very compassionate fellow — Tiim , — yet I 
cannot help entertaining a high opinion of Jiis 
guest too j there must be something more lhaa 
common in him , that in so short a time he 
should win so much upon the affections of his 
host : — And of his whole family , added the 
corporal , for they are all concerned for him* 
— Step after him, said my uncle Toby, — do 
Trim . — and ask if he knows his name, 



( II ) 

— I have quite forgot it , truly , said the 
landlord , coming back into the parlour with 
the corporal , — but I can ask his son again : 
— Has he a son with hirn then I said my 
uncle Toby. — A boy , replied the landlord , 
of about eleven or twelve years of age; — but 
the poor creature has tasted almost as little as 
his father ; he does nothing but mourn and 
lament for him night and day; — He has not 
stirred from the bed-side these two days. 

My uncle Toby laid down his knife and 
fork , and thrust his plate from before him , 
as the landlord gave him the account ; and 
Trim., without being ordered , took away 
without saying one word , and in a few mi- 
nutes after brought him his pipe and tobacco. 

— Stay in the room a little, said my uncle 
Toby. — 

Trim ! — said my uncle Toby , after he had 
lighted his pipe , and smoked about a dozen 
whiffs. — Trim came in front of his master ; 
and made his bow ; — my uncle Toby smo- 
ked on , and said no more. —Corporal ! said 
my uncle Toby — the corporal made his bow. 
«— My uncle Toby proceeded no farther , but 
finished his pipe. 

Trim ! said my uncle Toby, I have a pro- 
ject in my head, as it is a bad night, of wrapp- 
ing myself up warm in my roquelaure , and 
paying a visit to this poor gentleman. — Your 
honour's roquelaure , replied the corporal , 
has net once been had on since the night 

A6 



( 12 ) 

before your honour received your wound , 
when we mounted guard in the trenches be- 
fore the gate of St. Nicholas ; — and besides 
it is so cold and rainy a night , that what 
with the roquelaure , and what with the 
weather , 'twill be enough to give your honour 
your death , and bring on your honour's tor- 
ment in your groin. I fear so , replied my 
uncle Toby : but I am not at rest in my mind, 
Trim , since the account the landlord has 
given me. — I wish I had not known so much 
of this affair — added my uncle Toby — or 
that I had known more of it : — How shall 
we manage it I — Leave it , an't please your 
honour , to me , quoth the corporal ; — I'll 
take my hat and stick, and go to the house 
and reconnoitre , and act accordingly; and I 
will bring your honour a full accouut in an 
hour — Thou shait go . Trim , said my uncle 
Toby, and here's a shilling for thee to drink 
with his servant. — I shall get it all out of 
him , said the corporal , shutting the door. 

My uncle Toby filled his second pipe; and 
had it not been , that he now and then wan- 
dered from the point , with considering whe- 
ther it was not full as well to have the curtain 
of the tennaile a straight line , as a crooked 
one — he might be said to have thought of 
nothing else but poor Le Fevre and his boy 
the whole time he smoked it. 

It was not till my uncle Toby had knocked 
the ashes out of his third pipe , that corporal 



( *3) 
Trim returned from the inn, and gave him 
the following account. 

I despaired at first , said the corporal , of 
being able to bring back jour honour any kind 
of intelligence concerning the poor sick lieute- 
nant — Is he in the army, then. 7 said my 
uncle Toby — He is, said the corporal — And 
in what regiment; said my uncle Toby — I'll 
tell your honour , replied the corporal , every 
thing straight forward as I learnt it — Then , 
Trim , I'll fill another pipe , said my uncle 
Toby, and not interrupt thee till thou hast 
done ; so sit down at thy ease , Trim , in the 
window-seat, and begin thy story again. The 
corporal made his old bow , which generally 
spoke as well as a bow could speak it — 
« Your honour is good : » — And having done 
that , he sat down as he was ordered , — and 
begun the story to my uncle Toby over again 
in pretty near the same words. 

I despaired at first, said the corporal, of 
being able to bring back any intelligence to 
your honour about the lieutenant and his son ! 
for when I asked where his servant was , 
from whom I made myself sure of knowing 
every thing that was proper to be asked , — 
That's a right distinction, Trim, said my 
uncle Toby — I was answered , an' please 
your honour , that he had no servant with 
him ; — that he had come to te inn with hired 
horses , which , upon finding himself unable 
to proceed , ( to join , I suppose the regiment ) 



( i4) 

he had dismissed the morning after he came, 
-—If I get better, my dear , said he , as he 
gave his purse to his son to pay the man , we 
can hire horses from hence. - — But alas ; the 
poor gentleman will never get from hence 9 
said the landlady to me , — for I heard the 
death-watch all night long ; — and when he 
dies , the youth , his soil , will certainly die 
with him ; for he is broken-hearted already. 

I was hearing this account , continued the 
corporal , when the youth came into the kit- 
chen , to order the thin toast the landlord spoke 
of; — but I will do it for my father myself, 
said the youth. — Pray, let me save you the 
trouble , young gentleman , said I , taking up 
a fork for the purpose , and offering him my 
chair to sit down upon by the fire , whilst I 
did it. — I believe , Sir, said he, very mo- 
destly , I can please him best myself. — I am 
sure , said I , his honour will not like the 
toast the worse for being toasted by an old 
soldier. — The youth took hold of my hand f 
and instantly burst into tears. — Poor youth ! 
said my uncle Toby , — he has been bred up 
from an infant in the army , and the name of 
a soldier , Trim , sounded in his ears like the 
name of a friend $ — I wish I had him here. 

— I never , in the longest march, said the 
corporal, had so great a mind to my dinner , 
as I had to cry with him for company : — * 
What could be the matter with me , an* please 
your honour I Nothing in the vvorld , Trim , 



( i5) 

said my uncle Toby, blowing his nose , — * 
but that thou art a good-natured fellow. 

When I gave him the toast , continued the 
corporal , I thought it was proper to tell him 
I was Captain Shandy's servant, and that your 
honour ( thoug a stranger ) was extremely 
concerned for his father ; — And that if there 
was any thing in your house or cellar — ( and 
thou might'st have added , my purse too , 
said my tfncle Toby ) — he was heartily 
welcome to it : — He made a very low bow., 
( which was meant to your honour ) but no 
answer — for his heart was full — so he went 
up stairs with the toast; —I warrant you , 
my dear , said I , as I opened the kitchen door, 
your father will be well again — Mr. Yorick'a 
curate was smoaking a pipe by the kitchen 
fire, — but said not a word good or bad to 
comfort the youth. — I thought it w T as wrong 9 
added the corporal. — I think so too , said 
my uncle Toby. 

When the lieutenant had taken his glass of 
sack and toast , he felt himself a little revived ^ 
and sent down into the kitchen , to let me 
know , that in about ten minutes he should be 
glad if I would step up stairs. — I believe 
said the landlord , he is goiug to say his pra- 
yers , — for there was a book laid upon the 
chair by his bedside : and as I shut the door 3 
I saw his son take up a cushion. — 

I thought, said the curate , that you gentle- 
snen of the army , Mr. Trim , never said joux 



( i6) 
prayers at all — I heard the poor gentleman 
say his prayers last night, said the landlady , 
very devoutly , and with my own ears , or I 
could not have believed it. — Are you sure 
of it I replied the curate. — A soldier , an* 
please your reverence, said I, prays as often 
( of his own accord ) as a parson ; — and 
when he is fighting for his king , and for his 
own life, and for his honour too, he has the 
most reason to pray to God of any one in the 
whole world. — 'Twas well said of thee , 
Trim , said my uncle Toby. But when a 
soldier, said 1 , an' please your reverence , 
has been standing for twelve hours together 
in the trenches, up to his knees in cold water j 

— or engaged, said I , for months together , 
in long and dangerous marches j — harassed , 
perhaps , in his rear to-day j — harassing 
others to-morrow j — detached here $ coun- 
termanded there ; resting this night out upon 
his arms $ — beat up in his shirt the next ; — 
benumb'd in his joints ; perhaps without straw 
in his tent to kneel on ; — he must say his 
prayers how and when he can. — I believe , 
said I, for I was piqu'd , quoth the corporal , 
for the reputation of the army , — I be, i eve , 
an't please your reverence, said I , that when 
a soldier gets time to pray , — he prays as 
heartily as a parson — though not with all 
his fuss and hypocrisy. — Thou should'st not 
have said that , Trim , said my uncle Toby , 

— for God only knows who is a hypocrite . 



( n) 

and who is not : — At the great and general 
review of us all , corporal , at the day of 
judgment , ( and not till then I ) — - it will be- 
seen who have done their duties in this world , 
— and who have not j and we shall be advan- 
ced , Trim , accordingly. I hope we shall , 
said Trim — It is in the Scripture , said my 
uncle Toby ; and I will show it thee to- 
morrow : — In the mean time we may depend 
upon it , Trim , for our comfort , said my 
uncle Toby , that God Almighty is so good 
and just a governor of the world , that if we 
have but done our duties in it, — it will never 
be enquired into , whether we have done them 
in a red coat or a black one :■ — I hope not , 
said the corporal. — But go on Trim , said 
my uncle Toby ; with thy story. 

When I went up , continued the corporal , 
Into the lieutenant's room , which I did not do 
till the expiration of the ten minutes — he was 
lying in his bed with his head raised upon his 
hand , with his elbow upon the pillow , and a 
clean white cambric handkerchief beside it. — - 
The youth was just stooping down to take 
up the cushion , upon which I suppose he had 
been kneeling— the book was laid upon the 
bed , — and as he rose , in taking up the 
cushion with one hand , he reached out his 
other to take it away at the same time — Let 
it remain there 9 my dear , said the lieutenant. 

He did not offer to speak to me , till I had 
walked up close to his bed-side : — If you ars 



( is) 

Capitain Shandry's servant , said he , you must 
present my thanks to your master, with my 
little boy's thanks along with them , for his 
courtesy tome;- if he was of Leven's , said 
the lieutenant — I told him your honour was — 
Then , said he , I serv'd three campaigns with 
him in Flanders , and remember him — but 
*£is most likely, as I had not the honour of 
any acquaintance with him , that he knows 

nothing of me You will tell him, however, 

that the person his good-nature has laid under 
obligations to him , is one Le Fevre , a lieu- 
tenant in Angus's — but he knows me not — 
said he a second time, musing; — possibly 
he may my story , added he — pray , tell ihe 
captain , I was the ensign at Breda , whose 
wife was most unfortunately killed wilh a 
musket shot, as she lay in my arms in my 
tent. I remember the story , an't please your 
honour , said I , very well. Do you so 1 said 
he , wipping his eyes with his handkerchief, 
hen well may I — In saying this he drew a 
ittle ring out of his bosom , which seemed 
tied with a black ribband about his neck , and 
kissed it twice. Here, Billy, saitl he , — the 
buy flew across the room to the bedside , and 
falling down upon his knees , took the ring 
in his hand , and kissed it to , — then kissed 
his father , and sat down upon the bed and 
wept. 

I wish , said my uncle Toby , with a deep 
sigh , I wish Trim , I was asleep. 



( «9> 

Your honour , replied the corporal , is to© 
much concerned ; shall I pour your honour 
out a glass of sack to jour pipe I Do, Trim 9 
said my uncle Toby. 

I remember , said my uncle Toby , sighing 
again , the story of the ensign and his wife 9 
with a circumstauce his modesty omitted ; and 
particularly well that he , as well as she , upon 
some account or other , I forget what , was 
universally pitied by the whole regiment : but 
finish the story thou art upon. 'Tis finish'd 
already , said the corporal , for I could stay 
no longer , so wished his honour a good night : 
young Le Fevre rose from off the bed , and 
saw me to the bottom of the stairs ; and as 
we went down together , told me they had 
come from Ireland , and were on their route 
to join the regiment in Flanders. But alas ! 
said the corporal , the lieutenant's last day's 
march is over. Then what is to become of his 
poor boy ! cried my oncle Toby. 

It was to my uncle Toby's eternal honour- 
though I tell it only for the sake of those 9 
who , when cooped in betwixt a natural and 
positive law , know not for their souls which 
way in the world to turn themselves : That 
notwithstanding my uncle Toby was warmly- 
engaged at that time in carrying on the siege 
of Dendermond , parallel with the allies , 
who pressed their's on so vigorously , that 
they scarce allowed him time to get his dinner 
— that nevertheless he" gave up Dendermond f 



(20) 

though he had already made a lodgment upon 
the counterscarp, and bent his whole thoughts 
towards the private distresses at the inn; and , 
except that he ordered the garden-gate to be 
bolted up , by which he migm; be said to 
have turned the siege of Dendermond into a 
blockade , — he left Dendermond to itself, 
to be relieved or not by the French king, as 
the French king thought good ; and onlj con. 
sidered how he himself should relieve the poor 
lieutenant and his son. 

— That kind Being , who is a friend to 
the friendless , shall recompence thee for this. 

Thou hast left this matter short , said my 
uncle Toby to the corporal , as he was putting 
him to bed , and I will tell thee in what , 
Trim. In the first place , when thou madest 
an offer of my services to Le Fevre , as sickness 
and travelling are both expensive , and thou 
kuowest he was but a poor lieutenant , with 
a son to subsist as well as himself, out of his 
pay , that thou didst not make an offer to 
him of my purse ; because , had he stood in 
need , thou knowest , Trim , he had been as 
welcome to it as myself. Your honour knows , 
said the corporal , I had no orders , — True, 
quoth my uncle Toby , — thou didst very 
right , Trim , as a soldier , — but certainly 
very wrong as a man. 

In the second place , for which, indeed , 
thou hast the same excuse , continued my 
uncle Toby , — when thou olferedst him 



(21 ) 

whatever was in my house — thou should'st 
have offered him my house too : — A sick 
brother officer should have the best quarters , 
Trim ; and if we had him with us , we could 
tend and look to him : — Thou art an excellent 
nurse thyself, Trim; and what with thy 
care of him and the old woman's , and his 
boy's and mine together , we might recruit 
him again at once , and set him upon his legs. 

— In a fortnight or three weeks , added my 

uncle Toby , smiling , — he might march 

He will never march , an* please your honour , 
in this world , said the corporal. — He will 
march ; said my uncle Toby , rising up from 
the side of the bed with one shoe off : — An' 
please your hdnour , said the corporal , he 
will never march but to his grave ; — He 
shall march , cried my uncle Toby , marching 
the foot which had a shoe on , though without 
advancing an inch , he shall march to his 
regiment. — He cannot stand it , said the 
corporal. — He shall be snpported , said my 
uncle Toby ; — He'll drop at last , said the 
corporal , and what will become of his boy t 
He shall not drop , said my uncle Toby , 
firmly.— A well-o'day , do what we can for 
him , said Trim , maintaining his point , the 
poor soul will die : — He shall not die , by 
G. — d ; cried my uncle Toby. 

The accusing spirit , which flew up to 
heaven's chancery with the oath , blush'd as 
he gave it m — and the recording angel , as 



( 22 ) 

he wrote it down , dropp'd a tsar apoa the 
word , and blotted it out for ever. 

— My uncle Toby went to his bureau , put 
his purse into his breeches pocket , and having 
ordered the corporal to go early in the morning 
for a physician — he went to bed and fell asleep. 

The sun look'd bright the morning after to 
every eye in the village but Le Fevre's and 
his afflicted son's ; the hand of death pressed 
heavy upon his eye-lids , — and hardly could 
the wheel at the cistern turn round its circle , 
— when my uncle Toby , who had rose up 
an hour before his wonted time , entered the 
lieutenant's room , and without preface or 
apology , sat himself down upon the chair by 
the bed-side, and, independently of all modes 
and customs , opened the curtain in the manner 
an old friend and brother officer would have 
done it and asked him how he did , — how 
lie had rested in the night , — what was his 
complaint , where was his pain , •— and what 
he could do to help him I — and without 
giving him time to answer any one of the en- 
quiries , went on and told him of the little 
plan which he had been concerting with the 
corporal the night before for him. 

— You shall go home directly , Le Fevre , 
said my uncle Toby , to my house , — and 
we'll send for a doctor to see what's the 
matter , — and we'll have an apothecary — 
and the corporal shall be your nurse , — and 
I'll be your servant , Le Fevre. 



(23) 

There was a frankness in my uncle Toby, 
not the effect of familiarity , but the cause of 
it , which let you at once into his soul , and 
showed you the goodness of his nature : to 
this , there was something in his looks , and 
voice , and manner , superadded , which 
eternally beckoned to the unfortunate to come 
and take shelter under him ; so that before 
my uncle Toby had half finished the kind 
offers he was making to the father , had the 
son insensibly pressed up close to his knees , 
and had taken hold of the breast of his coat, 
and was pulling it towards him . — The blood 
and spirits of Le Fevre , which were waxing 
cold and slow within him , and were retrea- 
ting to their last citadel , the heart , rallied 
back , — the film forsook his eyes for a mo- 
ment , he looked up wishfully in my uncle 
Toby's face — then cast a look upon his boy , 
— ■ and that ligament , fine as it was , was 
never broken. 

Nature iustantly ebbed again , — the film 
returned to its place — the pulse flutter'd — • 
stoppM — went on -— throbb'd — stopp'd 
again — mo v'd — stopp'd — shall I go on— No. 

Sterne. 

Le comte Arundel propose irn accommo* 
dement entre Henri II et Etienne. 

In the midst of a wide and open plain , 
Henry found Stephen encamped , and pit- 



(24) 
died his own tents within a quarter of a mile 
of him 9 preparing for a battle with all the 
eagerness , that the desire of empire and 
glory could excite in a brave and you t hf u I 
heart , elate with success. Stephen also much 
wished to bring the contest between them 
to a speedy decision ; but , while he and 
Eustace were consulting with William of 
lpres , in whose affection they most confi- 
ded , and by whose private advice they took 
all their measures , the earl of*Arundel , 
having assembled the English nobility, and 
principal officers , spoke to this effect. 

It is now above sixteen years , that on a 
doubtful and disputed claim to the crown, the 
rage of civil war has almost continually infes- 
ted this kingdom. During this melancholy pe- 
riod how much blood has been shed ! What 
devastations and misery have been brought on 
the people ! The laws have lost their force , 
the crown its authorithy : licentiousness and 
impunity have shaken all the foundations of 
public security. This great and noble nation has 
been delivered a prey to the basest offoreigners, 
the abominable scum of Flanders , Brabant , 
and Bretagne , robbers rather than soldiers , 
restrained by no laws , divine or human , tied 
to no country , subject to no prince, instru- 
ments of all tyranny , violence , and oppres- 
sion. At the same time , our cruel neighbours , 
the Welch an the Scotch , calling themselves 
allies or auxiliaries to the Empress , but in rea* 

lity 



(25 ) 

lity enemies and destroyers of England , have 
broken their bounds , ravaged our borders , 
and taken from us whole provinces , which 
we can never hope to recover ; while , instead 
of employing our united force against them , 
we continue thus madly , without any care of 
our public safety or national honour, to turn 
our swords against our own bosoms. What 
benefits have we gained , to compensate all 
these losses , or what do we expect I When 
Matilda was mistress of the kingdom , though 
her power was not yet confirmed . in what 
manner did she govern ? Did she not make even 
those of her own faction and court regret the 
king I Was not her pride more intolerable 
still than his levity , her rapine than hts pro- 
fuseness I Were any years of his reign so grie- 
vous to the people , so offensive to the nobles, 
as the first days of her's I When she was dri- 
ven out , did Stephen correct his former bad 
conduct I Did he dismiss his odious foreign 
favourite I Did he discharge his lawless fo- 
reign hirelings , who had been so long the 
scourge and the reproach of England I Have 
they not lived ever since upon free quarter , by 
plundering our houses and burning our cities I 
And now , to compleat our miseries , a new 
army of foreigners, Angevins , Gascons, Poic- 
tevins , I know not who, are come over with 
Henry Plantagenet , the son of Matilda , and 
many more , no doubt, will be called to assist 
him as soon as ever his affairs abroad willper- 

B 



(26) 

rnit; by whose help , if he be victorious , En- 
gland must pay the price of their services : our 
lands , our honours must be the hire of these 
rapacious invaders. But suppose we should 
have the fortune to conquer for Stephen , what 
will be the consequeoce I Will victory teach 
liim moderation I Will he learn from security 
that regard to our liberties , which he could 
not learn from danger I Alas ! the only fruit 
of our good success will be this ; the estates of 
the earl of Leicester and others of our country- 
men , who have now quitted the party of the 
king, will be forfeited; and new confiscations 
will accrue to William of Ipres. 

But let us not hope , that b our victory ever 
so complete, it will give any lasting peace to 
this kindom. Should Henry fall in this battle , 
there are two other brothers to succeed to his 
claim, and support his faction, perhaps with 
less merit, but certainly with as much ambi- 
tion as be. What shall we do then to free our- 
selves from all these misfortunes I — Let us 
prefer the interest of 1 our country to that of our 
party , aud to all those passiobs , which are 
apt , in civil dissensions , to inflame zeal into 
madness , and render men the blind instru- 
ments of those very evils > which they fight to 
avoid. Let us prevent all the crimes and all 
the horrors that attend a war of this kind , in 
which conquest itself is full of calamity , and 
our most happy victories deserve to be cele- 
brated only by tears. Nature herself is dis- 



( 27 ) 
mayed , and shrinks back from a combat 
where every blow that we strike, may murder' 
a friend , a relation , a parent. Let us hearken 
to her voice , which commands us to refrain 
from that guilt. Is there one of us here, who 
would not think it a happy and glorious act , 
to save the life of one of his countrymen I 
What a felicity then , and whath a glory , 
must it be to us all , if we save the lives of 
thousands of Englishmen, that must otherwise 
fall in this battle, and in many other battles, 
which , hereafter , may be fought on this quar- 
rel \ It is in our power to do so — It is in our 
power to end the controversy , both safely 
and honourably , by an amicable agreement j 
not by the sword. Stephen may enjoy the roval 
dignity for his life, and the succession may ha 
secured to the young duke of Normandy, with 
such a present rank in the state as befits the 
heir of the crown. Even the bitterest enemies 
of the king must acknowledge, that he is va- 
liant, generous , and good natured ; his war- 
mest friends cannot deny, that he has a great 
deal of rashness and indiscretion. Both may 
therefore conclude , that he should not be de- 
prived of the royal authority , but that he 
ought to be restrained from a further abuse of 
it ; which can be done by no means , so cer- 
tain and effectual , as what I propose : for 
thus is power will be tempered by the pre- 
sence , the counsels , and influence of Prince 
Henry \ who from his own interest in the weal 

B 2 



( 28 ) 

of the kingdom which he is to inherit , will 
always have a right to interpose his advice , 
and even his autority , if it be necessary , 
against any future violation of our liberties ; 
and to procure an effectual redress of our grie- 
vances , which we have hitherto sought in 
vain. If all the English in both armies unite , 
as I hope they may , in this plan of pacifica- 
tion , they will be able to give the law to the 
foreigners, and oblige both the king and the 
duke to consent to it. This will secure the 
public tranquillity , and leave no secret stings 
of resentment , to rankle in the hearts of a 
suffering party , and produce future distur- 
bances. As there will be no triumph , no inso- 
lence , no exclusive right to favour on either 
side , there can be no shame , no anger , no 
uneasy desire of change. It will be the work 
of the whole nation : and all must wish to 
support what all have established. The sons 
of Stephen indeed may endeavour to oppose 
it : but their efforts will be fruitless and must 
end very soon , either in their submission , or 
their ruin. Nor have they any reasonable cause 
to complain. Their father himself did not co- 
me to te crown by hereditary right. He was 
elected in preference to a woman and an in- 
fant , who were deemed not to be capable 
of ruling a kingdom. By that election our 
allegiance is bound to him during his life : 
but neither that bond , nor the reason for 
wihch we chose him , will hold, as to the 



(2 9 ) 
choise of a successor. Henry Plantagenet is 
now grown up to an age of maturity, and 
every way qualified to succeed to the crown. 
He is the grandson of a king whose memory 
is dear to us , and the nearest heir male to 
him in the course of descent : he appears to 
resemble him in all his good qualities 5 and to 
be worthy to reign over the Normans and 
English, whose noblest blood ^ united, enri- 
ches his veins. Normandy has already sub- 
mitted to him with pleasure. Why should we 
now divide that duchy from England, when it 
is so greatly the interest of our nobility to keep 
them always connected I If we had no other 
inducement to make us desire a reconciliation 
between him and Stephen , this would be suf- 
ficient. Our estates in both countries will by 
that means be secured , which otherwise we 
must forfeit , in the one or the other while 
Henry remains possessed o Normandy : and it 
will not be an easy matter to drive him from 
thence , even though we should compel him 
to retire from England. But , by amicably com- 
pounding his quarrel with Stephen , we shall 
maintain all our interests , private and public* 
His greatness abroad wii increase the power of 
his kingdom ; it will make us respectable and 
formidable to France ; England will be the 
head of all those ample dominions , which 
extend from the British ocean to the Fyrenean 
mountains. By governing , in his youth, so 
many different states, he will learn to govern 

B5 



( 3o) 

us , and come to the crown , after the decease 
of lung Stephen, accomplished in all the arts 
■of good policy. His mother has wllingly re- 
signed to him her pretensions , or rather she 
acknowledges that his are superior : we the- 
refore can have nothing to apprehend on lhat 
side. In every view , our peace , our safety , 
the repose of our posterity , will be firmly 
established by the means I propose. Let Ste- 
phen continue to wear the crown that we give 
him , as long as he lives ; but after his death 
let it descend to that prince , who alone can 
put an end to our unhappy divisions. If you 
approve my advice , and will empower me to 
treat in your names, I will immediately con- 
vey your desires to the king and the duke. 

Lyttleton. 

Eloge de la Vertu. 

Virtue is of intrinsic value and good de- 
sert , and of indispensable obligation : not 
the creature of will , but necessary and im- 
mutable : not local or temporary , but of equal 
extendent and antiquity with the divine mind; 
not a mode of sensation , but everlasting 
truth ; not dependent on power , but the 
guide of all power. Virtue is the foundation 
of honour and esteem , and the source of all 
beauty , order , and happiness in nature. It 
is what confers value on all the other endow- 
ments and qualities of a j easonnable being , 



(3r ) 
to which they ought to be absolutely subser- 
vient , and without which te more eminent 
they are , the more hideous deformities and 
the greater curses they become. The use of it 
is not confined to any one stage of our exis- 
tence , or to any particular situation we can 
be in g but reaches through all the periods 
and circumstances of our being, — Many of 
the endowments and talents we now possess, 
and of which we are too apt to be proud , 
w T ill cease entirely wit the present state ; but 
this will be our ornament aud dignity in 
every future state to which we may be re- 
moved. Beauty and wit will die , learning 
will vanish away , and all the arts of life be 
soon forgot; but virtue -will remain for ever* 
This unites us to the whole rational creation , 
and fits us for conversing with any order of 
superior natures , and for a place in any part 
of God's works. It procures us the approba- 
tion and love of all wise and good beings , 
and renders them our allies and friends. — But 
what is of unspeakably greater consequence 
is, that it makes God our friend, assimilates 
and unites our minds to his, and engages his 
almighty power in our defence* — Superior 
beings of all ranks are bound by it no less 
than ourselves. It has the same authority in 
all worlds that it has in this. The further any 
being is advanced in excellence and perfec- 
tion , the greater is his attachment to it , and 
the more he is under its influence. — To say 

B 4 



( 32 ) 

no more ; J Tis the Law of the whole universe; 
it stands first in the estimation of the Deity ; 
its original is his nature •> and it his the very 
object that makes him lovely. 

Sue his the importance of Virtue. —Of what 
consequence , therefore , is it that we practise 
it ! — There is not argument or motive which 
is at all fitted to influence a reasonable mind, 
which does not call us to this. One virtuous 
disposition of soul is preferable tho the grea- 
test natural accomplishents and abilities , and 
of more value than ail the treasures of the 
world. — If you are w r ise , then , study vir- 
tue , and contemn every thing that can come 
in competition with it. — Remember , that 
nothing else deserves one anxious thought or 
wish. Kemember , that this alone is honour , 
glory $ wealth, and happiness. Secure this, 
and you secure every thing. Lose this , and 
all is lost. ^PmcE. 

Sur le Bonheur. 

It was at a time , when a certain friend ; 
whom I highly value , was my guest. We had 
been sitting together , entertaining ourselves 
w r ith Shakespeare. Among many of his cha- 
racters , we had looked into that of Wolsey. 
How soon , says my friend , does the Cardinal 
in disgrace abjure that happiness which he 
was so lately fond of I Scarcely out of office, 
but he begins to exclaim , 



(33) 

Vain pomp and glory of the world ! I hate ye. 

So true is it , that our sentimens ever vary 
with the season ; and that in adversity we 
are of one mind , in prosperity of another. 
As for his mean opinion , said I , of human 
happiness , it is a truth , which small reflec- 
tion might have taught him long before. There 
seems little need of distress to inform us of 
this. I rather commend thee seeming wisdom 
of that eastern monarch, who, in the af- 
fluence of prosperity , when he was proving 
every pleasure, was yet so sensible of their 
emptiness , their insufficiency to make him 
happy , that he proclaimed a reward to the 
man , who sould invent a new delight. The 
reward indeed was proclaimed , but the de- 
light was not to be found. If by delight , said 
he, you mean some good ; something con- 
ducing to real happiness ; it might have been 
found perhaps, and yet not hit the monarch's 
fancy. Is that , said I possible I It is possible , 
replied he , though it had been the sovereign 
good itself. And indeed what wonder I Is it 
probable that such a mortal as an eastern mo- 
narch - 7 such a pampered , flattered , idle mor- 
tal , should have attention , or capacity for a 
subject so delicate I A subject, enough to ex- 
ercise the subtlest and most accute I 

What then is it you esteem , said I , the so- 
vereign good to be I It should seem , by your 
representation ; to be something very uncom- 

B 5 



(34) 

mon Ask me not the question , said he, you> 
know not where it will carry us. Its general 
idea indeed is easy and plain ; but the detail 
of particulars is perplexed and long ; passions 
and opinions for ever thwart us ; a paradox 
appears in almost every advance. Besides, did 
our enquiries succeed ever so happily , the 
very subject itself it atways enough to give me 
pain. That replied I , seems a paradox indeed. 
It is not , said he from any prejudice , which 
I have conceived against it ; for to man I 
esteem it the noblest in the world. Nor is it 
for being a subject, to which my genius does 
not lead me ; for no subject at all times has 
more employed my attention. But the truth 
is , I can scarce ever think of it , but an un- 
lucky story still occurs to my mind. « A cer- 
»■ tain star-gazer , with his telescope was 
» once viewing the moon ; and describing 
$ her seas % her mountains ,. and her territo- 
» ries. Says a clown to his companion , Let 
» him spy what he pleases ; we are as near 
» to the moon as he and all his brethren. i> 
So fores it , alas ! with these our moral spe- 
culations. Practice too often creeps, where 
theory can soar. The philosopher proves as 
weak , as those whom he most contemns, A 
mortifying- thought to such as well attend it. 
Too certifying , replied I , to be long dwelt 
on. Give us rather your general idea of the 
sovereign good. This is easy from your own 
account , however intricate the detail. 



( 35) 

Thus then , said he , since you are so ur- 
gent , it is thus that I conceive it. The Sove- 
reign Good is that , the possession of which 
renders us happy. And how , said I , do we 
possess it I Is it sensual , or intellectual I There 
you are entering , said he , upon the detail. 
This is beyond your question. Not a small 
advance , said I , to indulge poor curiosity I 
Will you raise me a thirst , and be so cruel 
not to allay it I It is not 9 replied he , of my 
raising, but your own. Besides I am not cer- 
tain , should I attempt to proceed , whether 
you will admit such authorities as it is possible 
I may vouch. That , said I , must be determi- 
ned by their weight and character. Suppose y 
said he , it should be mankind ; the whole 
human race. Would you not think it some- 
thing strange , to seek of those concerning 
Good , who pursue it a thousand ways ,. and 
many of them contradictory I I confess, said 
I , it seems so. And yet continued he , were 
there a point, in which suchdissentiments ever 
agreed , this agreement would be no mean 
argument in favour of its truth and justness. 
Buth where , replied I , is this agreement to 
be found I 

He answered me by asking , what ifitshoukl 
appear, that there were certain original cha- 
racteristics and pre -conceptions of good 3 
which were natural , uniform and common 
to all men j which ail recognized in their va- 
rious pursuits j. and that the difference lay only 

£ 6 



( 36 ) 
in the applying them to particulars I This re- 
quires , said I, to be illustrated. As if, con- 
tinued he , a company of travellers , in some 
wide forest, were all intending for one city , 
but each by a rout peculiar to himself. The 
roads indeed would be various , and many 
perhaps false ; but all who travelled , would 
have one end in view. It is evident , said I, 
they would. So fares it then , added he , with 
mankind in the pursuit of good. The ways 
indeed are many , but what they seek is one. 

For instance - 9 Did you ever hear of any , 
who in pursuit of their good , were for living 
the life of a bird, an insect , or a fish I None. 
And why not I It would be inconsistent an- 
swered I , with their nature. You see then , 
said he , they all agree in this ; that what 
they pursue , ought to be consistent, and agre- 
eable to their proper nature. So ought it , said 
I, undoubtedly. If so, continued he , one pre- 
conception is discovered , which is common 
to good in general : It is . that all good is sup- 
posed something agreeable to nature. This in- 
deed , replied I , seems to be agreed on all 
hands. 

But again , said he , Is there a man scarcely 
to be found of a temper so truly mortified , as 
to acquiesce in the lowest , and shortest ne- 
cessaries of life I Who aims not , it he be 
able , at something farther , something bet- 
ter I I replied scarcely one. Do not multitude 
pursue, said he , infinite objects of desire f 



(3 7 ) 

acknowledged , every one of them , to be 111 
no respect necessaries I Exquisite viands , de- 
licious wines , splendid apparel, curious gar- 
dens ; magnificient apartments adorned w 7 ith 
pictures and sculptures ; music and poetry , 
and the whole tribe of elegant arts I It is evi- 
dent , said T. If it be so , continued he , it 
should seem that they all considered the Chief 
or Sovereign Good , not to be that , which 
conduces to bare existence or mere being ; for 
to this the necessaries alone are adequate. I 
replied they were. But if not this , it must be 
somewhat conducive to that , which is supe- 
rior to mere being. It must. And what , con- 
tinued he , can this be , but well-being , under 
the various shapes , in which different opi- 
nions paint it I Or can you suggest any thing 
else I I replied , I could not. Mark here , then , 
continued he , another pre - conception , in 
which they all agree ; the Sovereign good is 
somewhat conducive , not to mere being , but 
well-beingr-I replied , it had so appeared. 

Again , continued he , What labour, what 
expence , to procure those rarities , which our 
own poor country is unable to afford us ! How 
is the world ransacked to its utmost verges , 
and luxury and arts imported from every quar- 
ter ! Nay more : How do we baffle nature 
herself ; invert her order ; seek the vegetables 
of spring in the rigours of winter , and win- 
ter's ice during the beats of summer. I replied 
we did. And what disappointment , >yhat re» 



(38) 
morse-, when endeavours fail I It is true. If 
this then be evident , said he , it would seem , 
that whatever we desire as our Chief and So- 
vereign Good , is something which , as far as 
possible , we would accommodate to all pla- 
ces and times. I answered , So it appeared. 
See then , said he , another of its characteris- 
tics , another pre-conception. 

But farther still : What contests for wealth!: 
What scrambling for property ! What perils 
in the pursuit ! What solicitude in the main- 
tenance ! And why all this I To what purpose , 
to what end ? Or is not the reason plain ! Is it 
not that wealth may continually procure us , 
whatever we fancy good ; and make that per^ 
peiual , which would otherwise be transient I 
I replied , it seemed so. Is it not farther desi- 
red , as supplying us from ourselves ; fwhem 
without it , we must be beholden fo the bene- 
volence of others, and depend on their caprice 
for all that we enjoy I It is true , said I , this 
seems a reason. 

Again j Is not power of every degree as much 
contested for as wealth? Are not magistracies , 
honours , principalities , and empire , the sub- 
jects of strife and everlasting contention 1 1 re- 
plied , They were. And why , said he , is this I 
To obtain what end I Is it not to help us like 
wealth , to the possession of what we desire I 
Is it not farther to ascertain , to secure our 
enjoyments j that when others would deprive 
us , we may be strong enough K> resist them I 
I replied.,; it was* 



( 39 ) 

Or , to invert the whole ; Why are there , 
who seek recesses the most distant and reti- 
red ; flee courts and power , and submit to 
parsimony and obscurity ? Why all this , but 
from the same intention I From an opinion 
that small possessions , used moderately , are 
permanent : that larger possessions raise envy , 
and are more frequently invaded. That the sa- 
fety of power and dignity is more precarious 
than tbat of retreat ; and that therefore they 
have chosen , what is most elegible upon the 
whole I It is not , said I , improbable , that 
they act by some such motive. 

Do you not see then , continued he , two 
or three more pre -conceptions of the Sove- 
reign Good , which are sought for by all , as 
essential to constitute it ? And what y said I , 
are these \ That it should not be transient , 
nor derived from the will of others , nor in 
their power to take away ; but be durable, 
selfderived , and (if I may use the expression) 
indeprivable. I confess , said I ^ it appears so. 
But we have adready found it to be conside- 
red , assomethingagreable to our nature ; con- 
ducive y not to mere being , but to well-being; 
and w r hat we aim to have accommodated to 
all places and times. We have. 

There may be otber characteristics , said he , 
but these I think sufficient. See then its idea y 
behold it, a collected from the original , natu- 
ral and universal pre-conceptions of all man- 
kind. The SovexeigaGoodj, they have taught 



(4o) 

lis , ought to be something agreeable to our 
nature ; conducive to welle-being ; accom- 
modated to all places and times ; durable 7 
self-derived , and indepriyable. Vour accunt , 
said I , appears just. Harris. 

De la Modestie* 

Modesty is a polite accomplishment , and 
generally an attendant upon merit. It is enga- 
ging to the highest degree , and wins the hearts 
of all our acquaintance. On the contrary , none 
are more disgustful in company than the impu- 
dent and presuming. 

The man who is , on all occasions , com- 
mending and speaking well of himself, we 
naturally dislike. On the other hand , he who 
studies to conceal his own deserts , who does 
justice to the merit of others , who talks but 
little of himself, and that with modesty, ma- 
kes a favourable impression on the persons he 
is conversing with, captivates their minds , 
and gains their esteem. 

Modesty , however, widely differs from an 
awkward bashfulness , which is as much to 
be condemned as the other is to be applauded. 
To appear simple is as ill-bred as to be impu- 
dent. A young man ought to be able to come 
into a a room and address the company , wi- 
thout the least embarrassment. To be out of 
countenance when spoken to ; and not to have 



(4i ) 

an answer ready , is ridiculous to the last 
degree. 

An awkward country fellow , when he 
comes into company better than himself , is 
exceedingly disconcerted. He knows not what 
to do with his hands, or his hat , but either puts 
one of them in his pocket , and dangles the 
other by his side ; or perhaps twirls his hat 
on his fingers , or fumbles with the button. If 
spoken to , lie is in a much worse situation, 
he answers with the utmost difficulty , and 
nearly stammers ; whereas a gentleman, who 
is acquainted with life , enters a room wiih 
gracefulness and a modest assurance 9 addres- 
ses even persons he does not know , in an easy 
ad natural manner , and without the least em- 
barassment. This is the characteristic of good 
breeding , a very necessary knowledge in our 
intercourse with men : for one of inferior 
parts , with te behaviour of a gentleman is fre- 
quently better received than a man of sense, 
w^ith the address and manners of a clown. 

Ignorance and vice are the only things we 
need be ashamed of; steer clear of these , and 
you may go into any company you will : not 
that I would have a young man throw off all 
dread of appearing abroad, as a fear of offend- 
ing , or being disesteemed , will make him 
preserve a proper decorum. Some persons , 
from experiencing the incoveniences of false 
modesty , have run into the other extreme, 
and acquired the character of impudent. This 



(42) 

5s as great a fault as the other. A well-bred 
man keeps himself within the two, and steers 
the middle vay. He is easy and firm in every 
company , is modest , but not bashful , steady- 
but not impudent. He copies the manners of 
the better people , and conforms to their cus- 
toms with ease and attention. 

Till we can present ourselves in all compa- 
nies with coolnes and unconcern , we can 
never present ourselves well : nor will a man 
ever be supposed to have kept good company , 
or ever be acceptable in such company , if he 
cannot appear there easy and unembarrassed. 
A modest assurance , in every part of life , is 
the most advantageous qualification we can 
possibly acquire. 

Instead of* becoming insolent , a man of 
sense , under a consciousness of merit, is more 
modest. He Behaves himselfindeed with firm- 
ness , but without the least presumption. The 
man who is ignorant of his own merit 9 is no 
less a fool than he who is constantly dis- 
playing it. A man of understanding avails 
himself of his abilities , but never boasts of 
them 5 whereas the timid and bashfuf can 
never push himself in life, be his merit as 
great as it will ; he will be always kept be- 
hind by the forward and the bustling. A man 
of abilities , and acquainted with life , will 
stand as firm in defence of his own rights T 
and pursue his plan as steadily and unmoved 
as the most impudent man a-live 2 but then ha 



( 43) 

docs it with a seeming modesty. Thus , man- 
ner is every thing ; what is impudence in one 9 
is proper assurance only in another : for firm- 
ness is commendable , but an overbearing 
conduct is disgustful. 

Forwardness being the very reverse of mo- 
desty , follow rather than lead the company , 
that is 9 join in discourse upon their subjects 
rather than start one of your own : if you have 
parts , you will have opportunities enough of 
shewing them on every topic of conversation , 
and if you have none , it is better to expose 
yourself upon a subject of other people's than 
on one of your own. 

But , be particularly careful not to speak of 
yourself , if you can help it An impudent fellow 
lugs in himself abruptly upon all occasions r 
and is ever the hero of his own story. Others 
will colour their arrogance with « It may 
» seem strange indeed , that I should talk in 
» this manner of myself ; it is what I by no 
» means like , and should never do , if I had 
» not been cruelly and unjustly accused ; but 
» when my character is attacked , it is a jus- 
» tice I owe to myself to defend it. » This 
veil is too thin not to be seen through on the 
first inspection. 

Others again , with more art, wil modestly 
boast of all the principal virtues, by calling 
these virtues weaknesses y and saying , they 
are so unfortunate as to fall into those weak- 
nesses. «. I cannot see persons suffer % » says, 



( 44) 

£ one of this cast , without relieving them j 
$ though my circumstances are very unable 
» to afford it. » — » I cannot avoid speaking 
» truth , though it is often very impudent , » 
and so on. 

This angling for praise is so prevailing a 
principle , that it frequently stoops to the 
lowest objects. Men will often boast of doing 
that which , if true , wonld be rather a disgrace 
to them than otherwise. One man affirms that 
he rode twenty miles within the hour ; 'tis 
probably a lye ; but suppose he did , what 
then I He had a good horse under him , and 
is a good jockey. Another swears he has often 
at a sitting , drunk five or six bottles to his 
own share. Out of respect to him , I will be- 
lieve him a liar j fori would not wish to think 
him a beast. 

These and many more are the follies of idle 
people , which , while they think they procure 
them esteem , in reality make them despised. 

To avoid this contempt , therefore , never 
speak of yourself at all , unless necessity obliges 
you y and even then 9 take care to do it in 
such a manner , that it may not be construed 
into fishing for applause. Whatever perfec- 
tions you m^\y have , be assured , people will 
find them out ; but whether they do or not , 
nobody will take them upon your own word. 
The less you say of yourself, the more the 
world will give you credit for ; and the more 
you say , the less they will believe you. 

Chesterfield* 



( 45) 

De la bonne Education. 

Void of good-breeding , every other qualifi- 
cation will be imperfect , unadorned , and to 
a certain degree unavailing. 

Good-breeding being the result of good sense 
and good nature , is it not wonderful that peo- 
ple possessed of the one , should , be deficient 
in the other I The modes of it , varying ac- 
cording to persons , places , and circumstan- 
ces , cannot indeed be acquired otherwise 
than by time and observation , but the subs- 
tance is every where and always the same. 

What good morals are to society in general, 
good manners are to particular ones ' y their 
band and security. Of all actions , next to that 
of performing a good one , the consciousness 
of rendering a civility is the most grateful. 

We seldom see a person , let him be ever 
so illbred , wanting in respect to those whom 
he acknowledges to be his superiors ; the man- 
ner of shewing this respect , then , is all I 
contend for. The well-bred man expresses it 
naturally and easily , while he who is unused 
to good company expresses it awkwardly. 
Study then , to shew that respect which every 
one vvishes to shew, in an easy and graceful 
way : but this must be learnt by observation. 

In company with your equals , or in mixed 
companies , a greater latitude may be taken in 
your behaviour : yet , it should never exceed 



( 46) 

the bounds of decency ; for, though no one 
in this case , can claim any distinguished marks 
of respect, every one is entitled to civility and 
good manners. A man need not , for example , 
fear to put his hands in his pockets , take 
snuff , sit , stand , or occasionally walk about 
the room ; but it would be highly un beco- 
ming to whistle , wear his hat , loosen his 
garters , or throw himsolf accross the chairs. 
Such liberties are offensive tu our equals , and 
insulting to our inferiors. Easiness of carriage 
by no means implies inattention ad careless- 
ness. No one is at liberty to act , in all res- 
pects , as he pleases ; but is bound by the 
laws of good manners ; to behave with de- 
corum. 

Let a man talk to you ever so stupidly or 
frivolously , not to pay some attention to what 
he says , is savageness to the greatest degree. 
Nay , if he even forces his conversation to 
you , it is worse than rudeness not to listen to 
him - 7 for your inattention in this case , tells 
him , in express terms , that you think him 
a blockhead, and not worth the hearing. Now, 
if such behaviour is rude to men , it is much 
more so to women , who , be their rank what 
it will , have on account of their sex, a claim 
to officious attention from the men. Their 
little wants and whims , their likes and dis- 
likes , and even their impertinences , are par- 
ticularly attended to and flattered , and their 
very thoughts and wishes guessed at and in- 



(47) 
stantly gratified by every well-bred man* 

In promiscuous companies you should vary 
your address , agreeable to the different ages 
of the persons you speak to. It would be rude 
and absurd to talk of your amours or your plea- 
sures to men of certain dignity and gravity , 
to clergymen , or men in years ; but still you 
should be as easy with them as with others , 
your manner only should be varied; you should , 
if possible , double your respect and attention 
to them ; and were you to insinuate occasio- 
nally , that from their observation and expe- 
rience you wish to profit , you would insensi- 
bly win their esteem ; for flattery , if not ful. 
some and gross , is agreeable to all. 

When invited to dinner or supper , 'you 
must never usurp to yourself the best places 9 
the best dishes , etc. but always decline them , 
and offer them to others , except , indeed , 
you are offered any thing by a superior , when 
it would be a rudeness , if you liked it , not 
to accept it immediately , without the least 
apology. Thus 5 for example , was a superior , 
the master of the table, to offer you a thing 
of which there was but one , to pass it to the 
person next you, would be indirectly charging 
him that offered it to you , with a want of 
good manners and proper respect to his com- 
pany j or, if you were the only stranger 
present , it would be a rudeness if you made 
a feint of refusing it with the customary a 
pology , « I cannot think of taking it from 



( 48 ) 

« you , sir , » or , « I am sorry to deprive you 
of it -> » as it is supposed he is conscious of 
his own rank , and if he chose not to give it, 
would not have offered it ; your apology the- 
refore , in this case , is putting him upon an 
equality with yourself. In like manner , it is 
rudeness to draw back when requested by a 
superior to pass a door first , or to step into a 
carriage before him. In short, it would be 
endless to particularise all the instances in 
which a well-bred man shews his politeness 
in good company , such as not yawning , 
singing , whistling , warming his breech at 
the fire , lounging , putting his legs upon the 
chairs and the like , familiarities every man's 
good sense must condemn , and goodbreeding 
abhor. 

But, good breeding consists in more than 
merely not being ill-bred. To return a bow , 
speak when you are spoken to, and say nothing 
rude , are such negative acts of good-bree- 
ding , that they are little more than not being 
a brute. Would it not be a very poor commen- 
dation of any man's cleanliness, to say, that 
he was not offensive I If we wish for the good 
will and esteem of our acquaintance , our 
good-breeding must be active , chearful , 
officious and seducing. 

For example, should you invite any one to 
dine or sup with you , recollect whether ever 
you had observed them to prefer one thing to 
another 7 and endeavour to procure that thing j 

\yh-n 



(49 ) 

when at table , say , « At such a time 
» think you seemed » to give this dish a prefe- 
» rence , I therefore ordered it. » « This is the 
» wine I obserded you best like , 1 have the- 
» refore been at some pains to procure it. » 
Trifling as these things may appear , they 
prove an attention to the person thev are 
said to ; and as attention in trifles is the test 
of respect, the compliment will not be lost. 

I need only refer you to your own breast. 
How have these little attentions , when shewn 
you by others, flattered that self-love which 
no man is free from I They incline and attach 
us to that person , and prejudice us afterwards 
to all that he says or does. The declaration of 
the women in a great degree stamps a man's 
reputation of being either ill or well-bred ; 
you must then, in a manner, overwhelm them 
with these attentions ; they are used to them 7 
and naturally expect them , and to do them 
justice , they are seldom lost upon them. You 
must be sedulous to wait upon them , pick up 
with alacrity any thing they drop , and be 
very officious in procuring their carriages or 
their chairs in public places; be blind to what 
you should not see, and deaf to what you 
should not hear. Opportunities of shewing 
these attentions are continually presenting 
themselves ; but in case they should not , you 
must study to create them. 

If ever you would be esteemed by the 
women , your conversation to them should 

C 



(5o) 

be always respectful , lively , and addressed 
to their vanity. Every thing you say or do , 
should tend to shew a regard to their beauty 
or good sense : even men are not without their 
vanities of one kind or other , and flattering 
that vanity by words and looks of approbation, 
is one of the principal characters of good- 
breeding. 

It has , for a length of time , been custo- 
mary to salute the ladies upon a first intro- 
duction to them ; but these liberties having 
occasioned at times a great deal of unhappi- 
ness, the custom is dropped in polite compa- 
nies , and a wellbredman now never attempts 
it. He introduces himself only with a distant 
bow. 

Address and manners , with weak persons , 
who are actually three-fourths of the world , 
are every thing ; and even people of the best 
understanding are taken in with them. Where 
the heart is not won and the eye pleased , the 
mind will be seldom on our side* 

In short , learning and erudition , without 
good-breeding is tiresome and pedantic; and 
an ill-bred man is as unfit for good company 
as he will be unwelcome in it. Nay , he is 
full as unfit for business as for company. 
Make , then , good-breeding the great object 
of your thoughts and actions. Be particularly 
observant of, and endeavour to imitate, the 
behaviour and manners of such as are distin- 
guished by their politeness ; and be persuaded, 



<5i ) 

that good-breeding is to all worldly qualifica- 
tions , what charity is to all christian virtues : 
it adorns merit , and often covers the want 
of it. ChertefxField, 

De la proprete* 

But , as no one can please in company , 
however graceful his air * unless he be clean 
and neat in his person, this qualification conies 
next to be considered. 

Negligence of one's person not only implies 
an unsufferable indolence, but an indifference 
whether we please or not. In others, it betrays 
an insolence and affectation , arising from a 
presumption that they are sure of pleasing , 
without having recourse to those means which 
many are obliged to use. 

He who is not thoroughly clean in his person, 
will be offensive to all he converses with. A 
particular regard to the cleanness of your 
mouth , teeth , hands and nails , is but com- 
mon decency. A foul mouth and unclean 
hands , are certain marks of vulgarity ; the 
first is the cause of an offensive breath, which 
nobody can bear , and the last it declarative 
of dirty work ; one may always know a 
gentleman by the state of his hands ami nails, 
The flesh at the roots should be kep! back 9 
so as to shew the semicircles at the bott >m 
of the nails ; the edges of the nails shoud 
never be cut down bulow the ends of the fin- 

C 2 



(52) 

gers , nor should they be suffered to grow lon- 
ger than the fingers. When the nails are cut 
down to the quick , it is a shrewd sign that 
the man is a mechanic, to whom long nails 
would be troublesome , or that he gets his 
bread by fiddling j and if they are longer 
than his fingers ends , and encircled with a 
black rim , it foretells he has been laboriously 
and meanly employed , and too fatigued to 
clean himsels : a good apology for want of 
cleanliness in a mechanic , but the greatest 
disgrace that can attend a gentleman. 

These things may appear too insignificant 
to be mentioned ; but when it is considered 
that a thousand little nameless things , which 
every one feels but no one can describe , cons- 
pire to form that whole of pleasing , I hope 
you with not call them trifling. Besides , a 
clean shirt and a clean person are as neces- 
sary to health , as not to offend other people. 
It is a maxim with me , which I have lived 
to see verified , that he who is negligent at 
twenty years of age will be a sloven at forty, 
and intolerable at fifty. Chesterfield, 

De l' elegance de V expression. 

Having mentionned elegance of person , I 
will proceed to elegance of expression. 

It is not one or two qualifications alone that 
will complete the gentleman : it must be an 
union of many : and graceful speaking is as 



( 30 ) 

essential as gracefulness of person. Every man 
cannot be an harmonious speaker ; a i ough- 
ness or coarsness of voice may prevent it ; but 
if there ar no natural imperfections , if a man 
does not stammer or lisp, or has not lost his 
teeth , he may speak gracefully ; nor will all 
these defects, if he has a mind to it , prevent 
him from speaking correctly. 

Nobody can attend with pleasure to a bad 
speaker. One who tells his story ill be it ever 
so important , will tire even the most patient. 
If you have been present at the performance 
of a good tragedy , you have doubtless been 
sensible of the good effects of a speech well 
delivered ; how much it has interested and 
affected you : and on the contrary, how much 
an ill-spoken one has disgusted you. 'Tis the 
seimein common conversation : he who speaks 
deliberately , distinctly and correctly ; he who 
makes use of the best words to express him- 
self, and varies his voice according to the 
nature of the subject , will always please => 
while the thick or hasty speaker , he who 
mumbles out a set of ill-chosen words , utters 
them ingrammatically , or with a dull monc= 
tony , will tire and disgust. Be assured then , 
the air , the gesture , and the looks of a spea- 
ker , a proper accent , a just emphasis and 
tuneful cadence , are full as necessary to 
please and to be attended to , as the subject 
matter itself. 

People may talk what they will of solid 

Co 



( 54 ) 

reasoning and sound sense ; without the graces 
and ornaments of language they will neither 
please nor persuade. In common discurse , 
even trifles elegantly expressed will be better 
received than the best of arguments , homes- 
pun and unadorned- 

A good way to acquire a graceful utterance , 
is to read aloud to some friend every day , 
and beg of him to set you right , ki case you 
read too fast , do not observe the proper stops , 
lay wrong emphasis , or utter your words 
indistinctly. You may even read aloud to 
yourself, where such a friend is not at hand, 
and you will find your own ear a good cor- 
rector. Take care to open your teeth when 
vou read or speak , and articulate every word 
distinctly j which last cannot be done , but by 
sounding the final letter. But above all , en- 
deavour to vary your voice , according to the 
matter , and avoid a monotony. By a daily 
attention to this , it will in a little time , be- 
come easy and habitual to you. 

Pay an attention also to your looks and 
your gesture , when talking even on the most 
trifling subjects : things appear very different 
according as they are expressed , looked and 
delivered. 

Now , if it is necessary to attend so particu- 
larly to our manner of speaking , it is much 
more so , with respect to the matter. Fine 
turns of expressions , a genteel and correct 
style, are ornaments as requisite to commoa 



( ^ ) 
sense , as polite behaviour and an elegant ad- 
dress are to common good manners ; they are 
great assistants in the point of pleasing. A 
gentleman, 'tis true , may be known in the 
meanest garb , but it admits not of a doubt , 
that he would be better received into good 
company genteely and fashionably dressed , 
than was he to appear in dirt and tatters. 

Be careful then of your style upon all oc- 
casions ; whether you write or speak ? study 
for the best words and best expressions*, even 
in common conversation or the most familiar 
letters. This win prevent your speaking in a 
hurry , than which nothing is more vulgar ; 
though you may be a little embarrassed at 
first , time and nse will render it easy. It is no 
such difficult thing to express ourselves well 
on subjects we are thoroughly acquainted 
W 7 ith , if w r e think before w^e speak ; and no 
one should presume to do otherwise. When 
you have said a thing , if you did not reflect 
before , be sure to do it afterwards , consider 
with yourself , whether you could not have 
expressed yourself better , and if you are in 
doubt of the propriety or elegancy of any 
word , search for it in some dictionary (i) , 
or some good author , while you remember 
it ; never be sparing of your trouble while 

(1) Jonkscn's Folio Dictionary you will find very servi- 
ceable , and the Difference between words reputed syno* 
nimous ; a work in two volumes , written by me some 
years ago ; and published by Dodsley. 

C4 



( 56) 
you would wish to improve , and my word 
for it, a very little time will make this matter 
habitual. 

la order to speak grammatically and to 
ehpress yourself pleasingly , I would recom- 
mend it to you to translate often any language 
you are acquainted with into English , and to 
correct such translation till the words , their 
order , and the periods , are agreable to your 
own ear. 

Vulgarism in language is another distin- 
guishing mark of bad company and education. 
Expressions may be correct in themselves and 
yet be vulgar, owing to their not being fas- 
hionable ; for language as manners are both 
established for the usage of people of fashion. 

The conversation of a low - bred man , is 
filled up with proverbs and hackneyed sayings. 
Instead of observing that tastes are different , 
and that most men have one peculiar to them- 
selves , he will give you « What is one man's 
meat is another man's poison ; » or « Every 
one to their liking , as the old woman said , 
when she kissed her cow. » He has ever some 
favourite word , which he lugs in upon all 
occasions , right or wrong , such as vastly 
angry , vastly kind ; devilish ugly ; devilish 
handsome ; immensely little. Even his pro- 
nunciation carries the mark of vulgarity along 
with it j he calls the earth yearth; finan'ces, 
finances ; he goes to wards and not towards 
such a place. He affects to use hard words > 



(5 7 ) 

to give him tlie appearance of a man of lear- 
ning, but frequently mistakes their meaning, 
and seldom , if ever , pronounces them pro- 
perly. 

All this must be avoided 9 if you would not 
be supposed to have kept company with foot- 
men and housemaids. Never have recourse to 
proverbial or vulgar sayings ; use neither fa- 
vourite nor hard words , but seek for the most 
elegant ; be careful in the management of 
them , and depend on it your labour will not 
be lost ; for nothing is more engaging than a 
fashionable and polite address. 

Chesterfield, 

Du choix do la societe. 

Teh next thing to the choice of friends is 
the choice of your company. 

Endeavour , as much as you can , to keep 
good company , and the company of your 
superiors : for you will be held in estimation 
according to the company you keep. By supe- 
riors , I do not mean so much with regard to 
birth , as merit , and 'the light in which they 
are considered by the world. 

There are tw r o sorts of good company, the 
one consists of persons of birth , rank , and 
fashion; the other, of those who are distin- 
guished by some peculiar merit, in any libe- 
ral art or science ; as men oi letters ?i etc* and 
a mixture of these is what 1 would have un- 

C 5 



( ^ ) 
derstood by good company : fort it is not what 
particular sets of people shall call themselves, 
but what the people in general acknowledge 
to be so, and are the accredited good company 
©f the place. 

Now and then persons without either birth, 
rank , or character , wiR creep into good com- 
pany , under the protection of some conside- 
rable personage; but, in general, none are 
admitted of mean degree, or infamous moral 
character. 

In this fashionable good company alone , 
can you learn the best manners and the best 
language ; for, as there is no legal standard 
to form them by , 'tis here they are established. 

It may possibly be questioned, whether a 
man has it always in his power to get into 
good company ; undoubtedly , by deserving it, 
he has ; provided he is in circumstances which 
enable him to live and appear in the style of 
a gentleman. Knowledge , modesty and good 
breeding , will endear him to all that see him $ 
for without politeness, the scholar is no bet- 
ter than a pedant , the philosopher than a 
cynic , the soldier than a brute , nor any man 
than a clown. 

Though the company of men of learning 
and genius is highly to be valued and occasio- 
nally coveted , I would by no means have 
you always found in such company. As they 
do not live in the world , they cannot have 
that easy manner and address which I would 



<5 9 ) 
wish you to acquire, If you can bear a part 
in such company , it is certainly adviseable to 
be iu it sometimes , and you will be the more 
esteemed in other company by being so; but 
let it not engross you , lest you be considered 
as one of the literati , which however res- 
pectable in name, is not the way to rise or 
shine in the fashionable world. 

But the company which , of all others, you 
should carefully avoid , is that , which , in 
every sense of the word , may be called low : 
low in birth , low in rank , low in parts , 
and low in manners; that company, who , 
insignificant and contemptible in themselves, 
think it an honour to be seen with j-ow, and 
who will flatter you with them. 

Though you may think such a caution un- 
necessary, I do not i for many a young gent- 
leman of sense and rank, has been led by his 
vanity to keep such company , till he has 
been degraded, vilified and undone. 

The vanity I mean , is that of being the first 
of the company. This pride , tho' too com- 
mon, is idle to the last degree. Nothing in the 
world lets a man down so much. Fort the 
sake of dictating , be'ng applauded and admi- 
red by this low company , he is disgraced and 
disqualified for better. Depend upon it , in the 
estimation of mankind , jou will sink or rise 
to the level of the company you keep. 

Be it then your ambition to get into the 
best company ; and , when there , imitate their 

C6 



( 6o ) 
virtues, but not their vices. You have, no 
doubt , often heard of genteel and fashiona- 
ble vices. These are, drinking , gaming etc 
It has happened that some men , even with 
these vices , have been admired and estee- 
med. Understand this matter rightly , it is 
not their vices for which they are admired ; 
but for some accomplishments they at tne same 
time possess;. for. their parts, their learning, 
or their good-breeding. Be assured, were they 
free from their vices , they woafd be much 
more esteemed. In these mixed characters r 
the bad. part is overlooked , fort the sake o£ 
the good. 

Should you be unfortunate enough to have 
any vices of your own , add not to their num- 
ber by adopting the vices of others. Vices of 
adoption are of all others the most unpardo- 
nable , for they have not inadvertency to plead* 
If people had no vices but their own, few 
would have so many as they have. 

Imitate, then, only the perfections you 
meet with;, copy the politeness, the address, 
the easy manners of well-bred people ; and 
remember , let them shine ever so bright , if 
they have any vices , they are so many ble- 
mishes ,. which it would be as ridiculous to 
imitate, as it w T ould to make an artificial* 
wart upon one's face , because some very 
handsome man had the misfortune te have a 
natural one upon his* Chesterfield* 



( Si ) 

Du Commerce et des* Arts (i). 

The materials which men are concerned to 
provide may be referred to five general titles, 
the means of safety , subsistence , accommo- 
dation , and ornament. 

These considerations lead to the practice oi 
many arts , which are more or less successful 
in proportion as they are multiplied, separa- 
ted , and complete. 

They also suggest the advantages of pro- 
perty and wealth. 

The consideration of safety leads to the 
invention of arms, and places of retreat. 

The earliest weapons appear to have been 
the club , the sling , and the bow : To these' 
succeeded T in process of time , the spear and 
the sword , joined to the buckler or shield; 
Fire-arms , cannon , and then musketry. 
The desire of retreats has given rise to the' 
art of fortification-, 

The art of war , in every age , must be 
accommodated to the species of arms , engi- 
nes , and methods of fortification hi use. 

The arts which men practise for subsistence 
are, fishing, hunting , pasturage , and agri- 
culture. 

Nations that know least of the means oi 
subsistence , not finding enough in the spouts 

(i) Hanis en Cains, 



(62) 

neous growth of the earth , have recourse to 
hunting and fishing. 

In the result of these arts, the hunting- 
ground , the lake , the river , or the bay , may 
be appropriated to the society ; but the game 
is seldom appropriated to the individual. 

Nations that have observed the method and 
the advantage of. breeding herds , betake 
themselves to pasturage. 

They, at first , generally migrate , or wan- 
der with their herds. 

The individual acquires an immediate pro- 
perty in cattle , but not in land. 

Nations that are acquainted with the use of 
herbs , fruits , and grain , which do not grow 
spontaneously , or do not grow in sufficient 
quantities , betake themselves to agriculture. 

The culture of land , to a certain degree, 
may precede property , as it did among the 
ancient Germans (i) , and among the nations 
of North America. 

Agriculture , where the object is the tem- 
porary produce of land , is compatible with 
migration : Where the object is the improve- 
ment of soil , and perpetual fertility, agricul- 
ture requires settlement , and the property of 
land. 

As the property of land excites to inven- 
tion in agriculture , it likewise excites to in- 
vention in other arts. 

(i) Vide Cassar , lib. 4 , cap. i j and lib, 6 , cap. 22, 
Charlevoix's History cf Canada. 



(63) 

They who have no land , betake themsel- 
ves to manufacture , that they may have whe- 
rewith to buy the produce of land. 

By manufacture , men are furnished with 
the means of accommodation and ornament. 

The means of accommodation are , clothes^ 
houses , furniture , utensils , equipage. 

Men , in different ages, are unequally fur- 
nished with these articles ; they even subsist 
without them j but, in the ruder climates; 
under such inconveniencies, as diminish the 
numbers of the species , or prevent their 
increase. 

The Means of decoration are such things 
as please the fancy , without being necessary 
or useful. 

Men , in all ages , are fond of decoration ; 
they combine ornament with the means of 
subsistence and accommodation; but they may 
subsist, and enjoy every conveniency, wiihout 
regard to ornament. 

Ornaments are principally made of rare 
materials ; as gems, precious metals, etc. 

Iliches consist in the abundance of things 
that conduce to safety, subsistence, accommo- 
dation , and ornament. 

Riches are the result of arts and industry. 

Whatever ingenuity men exert in the prac- 
tice of arts, their success will depend on a 
proper distribution of their employments , and 
on their making a separate business of each. 

In making this distribution ; the parlies trust 



(64) 

that they may be able to exchange what they 
have to spare for what they want. 

The progress of arts , as well as the casual 
distribution of commodities , depending, on 
situation, climate, and soil , render commerce 
expedient , or even necessary. 

Commerce , in the simplest form, consissts 
of. barter, without any standard of valuation , 
or medium of exchange : Each party gives 
what he has to spare of one kind , for what 
he wants of another. 

To extend trade , money , communication $ 
and the interposition of merchants, are requi- 
red, 

The first money, or medium of exchange, 
was generally some staple commodity, as 
corn , cattle , etc. 

These were things of uncertain value, of 
inconvenient bulk , perishing or expensive in 
the keeping , and not easily divided , without 
making a change of value. 

To avoid these several inconveniencies, the 
precious metals have been admitted in every 
trading nation as the medium of exchange. 

They are , for the greater conveniency , 
employed in the form of coin. 

The pound , or other ascertained weight or 
quantity of the precious metals, was employed 
as the standard of valuation. 

The coin of all nations has undergone con- 
siderable changes > both in respect to fineness' 
and weight* 



(63) 

The present standard for silver in England 
is n oz. 2 dw. fine , to i8 dw. allay. 

For gold , 22 carats fine , to 2 carats allay. 

The pound of standard silver is cut into 62 
shillings. 

That of gold, into i\i\ guineas. 

The pound of silver was originally cut into 
20 shillings : Hence 20 shillings are still the 
nominal pound in money. 

In the reign of Edward VI. the standard of 
silver was greatly debased, and the coin great- 
ly diminished. The standard consisted of three 
parts of fine to nine of allay ; and the pound 
of this debased metal was cut into 72 shillings. 

The standard and weight of the coin have, 
since the reign of Elizabeth , remained the 
same. 

Operations on the coin embarrass trade <, by 
perplexing transactions , and by alarming the 
interest of debtors and creditors, 

If, in debasing coin, the interest of the 
creditor is not guarded , he must be defrauded, 

In raising the value of the coin , the debtor 
would be defrauded. 

Most operations on coin have been of the 
former kind. 

The use of coin , and actual payments in 
money, are not necessary in every commer- 
cial transaction. 

In the transfer of great sums, even the pre- 
cious metals would be cumbersome and in- 
convenient 



(66) 

To avoid this inconvenience, the practice 
of circulating bills has been adopted. 

This practice is founded in credit, and 
tends to extend it. 

Commerce employs a number of separate 
professions ; the manufacturer , the factor , 
the carrier , the merchant , the retailer. 

The price of commodities in trade is as 
their scarcity combined with their demand. 

Articles, in the production of which, labour 
time, and skill, are required, continue to 
multiply , while the price is sufficient to 
maintain the labourer during the time he is em- 
ployed , to reimburse his apprenticeship, and 
other expenses , and to furnish an adequate 
reward. 

When the price falls below this meafure , 
the manufacture is discontinued , until the 
scarcity brings up the price. Feuguson. 

De Vinegalite des rangs. 

Men are diversified , in respect to their per- 
gonal qualities and conditions. 

The distinction of personal qualities arises 
from unequal strength and capacity, unequal 
knowledge, resolution , and courage, unlike 
dispositions of benevolence or malice. 

These differences constitute either relations 
of dependence and power , or comparative 
degrees of estimation. 

The strong 3 the knowing , the brave , are 



(6?) 
powerful ; the weak , the ignorant , the fear- 
ful , are dependent. 

The benevolent are beloved ; the malicious 
are detestet. 

The knowing, the generous , and the brave, 
are esteemed ; the ignorant , the ungenerous , 
and the cowardly , are contemned : and all 
the qualities of human nature being referred 
to the predicaments of excellence and defect , 
one man is held to be more , another less 
worthy. 

Men differ in their predilection of qualities 
considered as the constituents of excellence. 

They prefer qualities the most necessary in 
their own situations , and the most eminent 
in their own way. 

In dangerous situations, and in warlike 
ages , ihey chiefly admire valor. 

In learned societies, they admire know- 
ledge and ingenuity. 

In trading nations , they admire industry f 
punctuality , and fair dealing. 

But there being some circumstances com- 
mon in the situation and disposition of all 
mankind , such as , their being united in so- 
ciety , and concerned in what relates to their 
fellow-creatures; men universally admire qua- 
lities which constitute or procure the good of 
mankind; as, wisdom , justice, courage, and 
temperance. 

Snch qualities are generally comprehended 
under the title of Virtue ; 

Opposite qualities, under the title of Vice* 



(68) 

The external conditions of men are some- 
times confounded with personal qualities , and 
appear to have the same effects. 

The rich are powerful , the poor are de- 
pendent. 

Riches and birth , even equipage and dress, 
are admired. The reverse of these exposes to 
contempt or neglect* 

Disparities are found in every state of so- 
ciety ; they are greatest where riches , power, 
and education , are most unequally distributed. 

Flkguson. 

De Dieu. 

The characters of men are variously formed 
Upon their predilection for pleasure , honour , 
or profit; and disputes have arisen in th© 
schools of philosophy concerning the prefer- 
ence to be given to one or other of these, in 
erecting a system. 

In stating the object of this controversy , 
we may assume , that men must owe their 
measure of happiness either to the gratification 
of natural desire ; to the quality of their natu- 
ral powers; or to both these united. 

This assumption will enable us to comprise 
every doctrine on the subject of happiness , 
under what was thaught by the Epicureans , 
the Peripatetics , or the Stoics. 

The Epicureans supposed the supreme good 
to consist in the enjoyement of what we are 
by nature led to desire; and, as desire origi- 



(e 9 ) 

nates in the sense of pleasure , they contended 
for pleasure as the supreme or sole good, and 
the measure by which the value of excellence 
itself was to be estimated. 

Thinking independence , however , neces- 
sary to the completion of happiness , they sup- 
posed the perfect man capable of enjoying his 
pleasure not only in the absence of every ex- 
ternal cause , but in the midst of circumstan- 
ces of a contrary effect. 

The Academy , and , after them , the Peri- 
patetic School , distinguished excellence from 
pleasure , and gave to the first a superior place 
in the scale or estimate of things good. 

They observed, that all desire does not 
originate in the sense of pleasure. 

That there are various propensities of na- 
ture , prior to the experience of pleasure or 
pain. 

Such are the propensities of every animal 
to the use of his organs : The propensity of 
man to the use of his faculties. 

The natural affection of parents to their 
children. 

Love and confidence , founded in sympathy 
or conceptions of merit. 

Ambition and elevation of mind , founded 
in the conception of excellence and worth. 

They observed , that, to these, or some of 
them separately , we are willing , on many 
occasions , to sacrifice every consideration of 



(7°) 
pleasure or profit , and to incur every circum- 
stance of pain or loss. 

They maintained also, that the measure of 
happiness which men attain, is not to be esti- 
mated from the degree in which they possess 
or enjoy the objects of desire; but more from 
the part they take , or from the conduct they 
hold in this active scene , where so many af- 
fairs and transactions arise in pursuing the 
objects of original desire ; but where the con- 
duct of the person acting is nevertheless4he 
principal consideration. 

In just conduct , the virtue or supreme ex- 
cellence of a man consists ; and in this also 
consists the supreme good to which he ought 
to aspire. 

That j, although human life is put in motion 
Jby the spring of certain original desires , yet , 
that the motion itself is of more importance 
than the moving power which gave rise to it. 

Wisdom is of more value than the external 
advantage secured by it. 

Benevolence is of more value than the be- 
nefit conferred by it. 

And, in general, that, wherever man is 
the instrument employed for the attainment of 
external ends , the means are of more value 
than the end. 

They did not, however, venture to assert 
that the end was indifferent, or that ihe life 
of a virtuous man might be equally happy in 
adversity and in prosperity. 



(71 ) 

They were contented with giving to virtue 
the highest place in the scale of happiness; and 
they supposed it to be so much above that of 
every other good , whether of pleasure or 
profit, that the highest measures of these were 
never to be put in competition with the obli- 
gations of integrity and justice , even in mat- 
ters of the smallest importance* 

The Stoics concurred with the Peripatetics 
in the principal parts of this argument* They 
distinguishe between the occasion on which a 
man acted , and the action itself. The first 
might be , and actually was frequently of a 
trivial nature , while the action was of great 
importance. This they farther explained, and 
urged more forcibly than the Peripatetics had 
done. 

They maintained , that good and evil con° 
sisted altogether in the part which a man ac- 
ted , not in the circumstances in which he w T as 
placed. 

In their controversy with the Peripatetics , 
they laid hold of the concessions made by the 
latter , in respect to the preference due to any 
consideration of justice before the highest con- 
siderations of pleasure or profit ; and main- 
tained , that it was absurd to state , under the 
Same denominations of good and evil , things 
in their nature so different , that the highest 
consideration of one kind could not be brought 
in competition with the lowest of the other. 

That this was not merely in words, to 



( 72 ) 

confound tilings together, winch ought to be 
stated apart ; but to countenance hesitation 
and irresolution , when sacrifices of pleasure 
or interest were to be made to considerations 
of justice and duty. 

They observed , that , as the people are 
often missed by the inaccuracy of their own 
expressions , it is no inconsiderable object of 
philosophy to correct this defect , and to teach 
men to call nothing* good but that which is to 
be chosen at all times, and without any ex- 
ception whatever , and 110J: to indulge them in 
the error of confounding , under the same 
appellations , things contingent with things 
which are in their own power, and for which* 
they are responsible. 

They observed , that it was absurd in the 
Peripatetics , who acknowledged the supreme 
excellence of the virtues , among which mag- 
nanimity and fortitude had a principal place, 
nevertheless to suppose that happiness would 
be more complete if there were no occasion 
to call forth or to exercise these virtues. 

It appeared absurd to state , under the same 
denomination of good, the wealth which the 
miser coveted, and the contempt of that w r ealth 
which the liberal sometimes expressed , and 
always maintained when proper. 

For these reasons , the Stoics limited the 
appellations of good and evil to virtue and 
vice alone. 

Their system , in the common acceptation 

of 



(73) 
of words , seemed to be made up of paradox. 
Pain was no evil ; pleasure was no good j all 
external events , whether prosperous or ad- 
verse , were indifferent : But this , in their 
language, meant no more than that there was 
no moral turpitude in pain , no moral ex- 
cellence in pleasure ; that virtue might be 
practised equally in all events , whether pros- 
perous or adverse. 

When the occasion did not require a diffe- 
rent choice , pleasure vvas to be preferred to 
pain , and prosperity to adversity ; that , as 
pleasure was often to be rejected , and pain 
to be embraced, it was absurd to call that 
good which it was good to reject , or evil » 
which it was an evil to avoid. There was, in 
the proper or improper use of w r hat befel us , 
a real good or evil ; but this good was to be 
found in adversity , as well as prosperity , 
and the evil no less in prosperity than in ad- 
versity. 

Thus we may conceive , that the Epicureans 
made happiness to consist in the objects of their 
pursuit, or in the enjoyment of them. 

That the Stoics placed it in the proper 
choice of their pursuits ; and in the integrity 
and wifdom of their conduct ; whilst the Peri- 
patetics required both to complete the idea of 
happiness , or the supreme good. 

There were other schools, whose language 
differed from that of the sects we have men- 
tioned 9 but who , in respect to the effect or 

D 



(74) 
tendency of their systems , might be involved 
with one or other of these, 

In general , it may be affirmed, that every 
sect acknowledged the necessity of virtue , or 
allowed, that, in every well directed pursuit 
of happiness , the strictest regard to morality 
was required. The Stoics alone maintained 
that this regard itself was happiness , or that , 
to run the course of an active, strenuous, 
wise , and beneficent mind , was itself the very 
good which we ought to pursue. 

Ferguson. 

Si Vestime doit elre consideree comme une 
chose tres - importante dans la vie hu- 
maine. 

It is a maxim allowed in some instances , 
that we ought not to dispute about tastes ; but 
this , in every case, is certainly not true. 

We are by nature qualified to distinguish 
tastes themselves , as worthy and unworthy , 
as well as to distinguish other objects by means 
of our tastes. 

We think meanly of ourselves for the plea- 
sures we take , or the pains we shun ; and we 
think well of ourselves for the pleasures we 
forego , or the pains we endure. 

The feeling of the present moment, unsup- 
ported by experience of its effects, unjustified 
by any judgement of its value , and unwar- 
ranted by observation of what passes in human 



(75) 
life , is a very uncertain , fleeting , and falla- 
cious standard of es.imation. 

To chuse well , we ought to consider not 
only what is at present agreeable , but what 
occupies the mind most intensely, what occu- 
pies most continually, and what is the most 
permanent subject of satisfaction and esteem. 

By this test the several articles of reputed 
good and evil may be safely examined and 
estimated. 

Animal enjoyments are occasional and tran- 
sitory j they pall on the sense , or must wait 
the returns of appetite. 

They occupy , therefore , but a small por- 
tion of human life. 

Sensuality, or the attempt to render them 
continual , impairs the power of enjoyment « 
and the faculties of life mind. 

Sensuality is a distemper of the imagination^ 
of which the languors or disgusts need to be 
remedied by a mixture of rational amusements 
and pastimes* 

The sense of animal pleasure seems destined 
to excite to action , and to direct man to what 
is salutary, but not to constitute the enjoy- 
ment of human life. Bodily pain is occasional 
but not always transient. 

It appears destined to direct men in shun- 
ning what is pernicious. 

It is prolonged to a greater measure than 
any bodily- pleasure, and sometimes actually 
ends only in death, 

D2 



(76) 

Suitably to its final cause , the pain remains 
while the attack on animal life continues ; and 
it increases as the danger approaches. 

In human life , for the most part , bodily 
pains are but slightly experienced, and are not 
the evil which we have most to fear. 

The continued enjoyments of men in hu- 
man life , arise from their active engagements, 
their affections , joys , and hopes. 

Their continued sufferings arise from ill 
temper, envy, jealousy, malice, and cowar- 
dice. 

Men are best amused with exercices that 
engage them most , that awaken their affec- 
tions , and occupy their talents. 

For this reason the more serious and urgent 
occupations are to be preferred to the more 
flight and apparently pleasant. 

Men of business have more enjoyment than 
men of dissipation. 

The reverse of amusement is inoccupation 
and languor. 

Affections are pleasant , in proportion as 
they are ardent , diffused . and extensive. 

Malice is painful , in proportion as it is 
diffused , rancorous , and implacable. 

Joy and hope are intense and permanent, 
in proportion as they are founded in just 
opinions of things. 

False opinions lead to transient joy and to 
disappointment. 

Grief, and fear, and disappointment, are 



( 77 ) 
most frequent where men most mistake the 
moment or value of things. 

Vehement affection , active engagement, or 
passion , suspend the sense of bodily pleasure 
or pain. 

Intellectual enjoyments , in general , are 
preferable to the animal , as they may be 
rendered continual , or occupy the greater 
part of human life. . 

It appears , upon the whole , that serious 
engagements , benevolent affections , and just 
opinions , are the preferable source of enjoy- 
ments in human life. 

It has been observed , that one of the 
strongest propensities in human nature is am- 
bition , that which tends to perfection, or the 
bettering ourselves. 

The phenomena of this propensity are mir 
xed ; its abuses , emulation , pride , and va- 
nity , are mixed with moral approbation , 
magnanimity, and elevation of mind. 

Under the influence of this propensity , men 
forego any pleasure, or incur any pain. 

Benevolence, or the love of mankind, is 
the greatest perfection ; it is likewise the source 
of greatest enjoyment. 

Wisdom, or a just estimation of things, is 
the best security against disappointment , des- 
pair , and all the wretched passions. 

Temperance is the proper use of enjoy- 
ments of every sort. 

Fortitude is an antidote to dejection and 

D 5 



(73) 
sear ; the best security in danger, and the best 
alleviation of unavoidable sufferings. 

The higher animal pleasure is rated , the 
more temperance, or the proper use of them , 
must be valued. 

The more bodily pain appears formidable , 
the more fortitude , that enables men , with 
presence of mind , to avoid , or with patience 
to endure it , is to be valued. 

The greatest defects, as well as sufferings, 
of men , are malice and cowardice , or result 
from intemperance and folly. 

In human nature , therefore , the most 
eligible enjoyments, and the state of least suf- 
fering , coincides with the most excellent state 
of the character. 

Prosperity is actually valued , on account 
of its supposed tendency to constitute enjoy- 
ment , or to better our state. 

Health enables us to attain to the preferable 
enjoyments and accomplishments of human 
life , but is not an absolute security for either* 

The proper use of health is good , the 
abuse is evil. 

Good education is calculated to promote 
good dispositions , and to bestow valuable 
accomplishments. 

Neglect has an opposite tendency. 

But neither the best nor the worst educa- 
tion necessarily produce any precise effect. 

Security or liberty is best attained under 
wise political establishments. It is the resuU 



( 79 ) 
of justice , and tends to promote the love of 
mankind. 

This effect,, and all the proper uses of 
liberty, are good. 

The abuse is evil. 

Thraldom is, in all respects, the reverse 
of freedom or secuiil y. 

Competency of fortune is sufficient to all 
the purposes of animal life. 

Increase of wealth does not proportionally 
increase enjoyment. 

It often leads to sensuality , dissipation , 
sloth , pride , and disdain. 

Man is formed for mixed fortune ; difficul- 
ties and dangers call forth powers , in the 
exercise of which his greatest perfections and 
his greatest enjoyments consist ( i ). 

Mere life is to him an opportunity to avail 
himself of the good , while it exposes him 
likewise to incur the evil , of which his na- 
ture is susceptible. 

The proper use of life is good , the abuse 
of it is evil. 

The value of prosperity , in general , de- 
pends on the proper use of advantages. 

(f) Henry IV, says the president Henault, was among 
the best and the greatest of our Kings. He met with that 
which forms great men , and makes tern known , diffi- 
culties to be surmounted 3 dangers to be encountered ; and , 
above all, adversaries who were worthy of him, as re- 
quiring the full exertion of ail his abilities (*}. 

C*) Abrege de i'Histoire de France, fin du regue de Henri IV. 

D 4 



( ' 8o ) 

The proper use of things is a perfection of 
human nature. 

The desire of perfection , therefore , well 
understood , appears to be the surest guide to 
enjoyment 9 and to all the advantages of pros- 
perity. 

Ail our enjoyments , besides those of sense , 
arise from our having some poursuit or affec- 
tion , to which pleasure is not the object , but 
an accession. Thus the pleasures of hunting 
arise from eagernefs to seize the prey ; the 
pleasures of occupation arise from the ardor 
with which we pursue our object , the plea- 
sures of affection arise from the regard we 
have for other men y and the pleasure of good 
actions arises from the esteem of virtue. If 
pleasure be our s^le object , we must forego 
it in all those instances. 

The measure of good which any one pos« 
sesses is to be estimated from his personal cha- 
racter , not from his circumstances , or ex- 
ternal means of enjoyment. 

In the different denominations of good and 
evil , it appears that virtue and vice are of 
the greatest moment. 

The first is itself the greatest advantage , 
the securest possession , and that which ena- 
bles men best to employ all other advantage , 
and all other possessions. 

The second is wretched in itself, and turns 
every other circumstance in a curse. 

Ferguson 



( 8i ) 

Naissance et education de Gil Bias. 

My father , Bias of Santillane , after having 
carried arms many years in the service of 
the Spanish monarchy, retired to the town 
in which he was born , where he chose a 
wife among the second-rate citizens ; who 9 
though she was no chicken , brought me 
into the w T orld ten months after her marriage. 
They afterwards removed to Oviedo , where 
my mother became a waiting- woman, and my 
father squire (escudero) to a lady ; and as they 
had nothing but their wages to depend upon . 
I should have run the hazard of being very 
poorly educated , had it not been my good 
fortune to have a canon for my uncle , 
whose name was Gil Perez : he was my 
mother's eldest brother , as well as my god- 
father ; a little man , three feet and an half 
high , excessive fat , with his head sunk be- 
tween his shoulders ; otherwise , an honest 
priest , whose chief care was to live well , 
that is , to make good cheer ; and his living , 
which was no lean one , furnished him with 
the means. 

He carried me home to his house, while 
an infant , and toock the charge of my edu- 
cation ;%nd I appeared so sprightly , that he 
resolved te cultivate my genius. With this 
view , he bought for me a\i horn- book , and 
undertook himself to learn me to read ; 

D 5 



(82) 

cl task no less useful to him than to me; 
for , in teaching me my letters , he had 
recourse to his reading , which he had al- 
ways neglected too much ; -and , by dint of 
application , enabled him to read his breviary 
without hesitation, ; a qualification he had 
never been possessed of before. He had all 
the inclination in the world to instruct me in 
the Latin tongue also , because it would have 
been so much money saved to him ; but , alas ! 
poor Gil Perez 1 he had never in his life 
understood the rudiments of that language , 
and was, perhaps , ( but this I do not vouch 
for certainty ) the most illiterate canon of 
the whole chapter. I have been told , indeed y 
that he had not obtained his benefice by his 
erudition ; but owed it entirely to the gratis 
' lude of some pious nuns ,. for whom he had 
acted the part ot a zelaous commissioner , and 
by whose influence* the order of priesthood 
had been conferred upon him without exami. 
nation. 

He was , therefore 9 obliged to subject me 
to te birch of a schoolmaster, and accordingly 
sent me to the house of D. r Godinez , who 
was esteemed the most expert flogger in 
Oviedo. I improved so well under his instruc- 
tions , that in five or six years I untexstood a 
little Greek ; was a pretty good Lam scho- 
lar » and applying myself also to logicMbegart 
to argue apace : 1 was so much in lovw with 
dispute j that I stopped passengers 3 l^iown 



( 83) 
or unknown , and proposed arguments (o 
them ; and sometimes meeting with Hiber- 
nian geniuses , who were very glad of the 
occasion , it was a good jest to see us dispute . 
by our extravagant gestures , grimace , con- 
tortions , our eyes full of fury , and our mouths 
full of foam y any one would have taken 
us for bedlamites , rather than philosophers. 

By these means , however , I acquired the 
reputation of a great scholar , in town j 
a circumstance that pleased my uncle ex- 
tremely , as he foresaw that I should not be 
much longer any expence to him. « Hark'e , 
Gil Bias , said he to me one day : thou 
art no longer a child , and it is high time 
for a brisk lad of seventeen , like thee , to 
push thy fortune in the world : I am deter- 
mined to send thee to Salamanca , where , 
with such genius and learning , thou canst 
not fail of ohtaining some good post : thou 
shalt have some ducats in thy pocket , to 
bear thy expences on the road ; and I will 
give thee my own mule , which thou may est 
sell at Salamanca for ten or twelve pistoies , 
and live upon the money until thou shalt be 
settled to thy satisfaction. » 

He could not have proposed any thing more 
agreeable to me ; for I passionately longed to 
see the world : nevertheless , I had discretion 
enough to conceal my joy ; and w r hen the 
time of my departure arrived 9 affecting the 
snost lively sorrow at leaving my uncle to 

D6 



i "4 ; 
whom I owed so many obligations , the ha- 
nest man mehed , and gave me more money 
than he would have done f could he have seen, 
to the bottom of my heart. Before 1 set out ? 
I went to take leave of my father and mother ? 
who enriched me with advice ; exhorted me 
to pray to God for my uncle ; to live inof- 
fensively j to eschew evil ; and , by all means , 
to refrain from stealing. After they had held 
fort a good while , they made me a presen! 
of their blessing , which was all I expected 
from them ; and I ,. mounting my mule , bade 
adieu to Oviedo. Smoll£ttv 

Gil Bias part pour Salamanque , ce qui lui 
arrive a Pennaflor* 

Btkold me I he n in the open field 7 clear of 
Oviodo , on the road to Pennaflor, master of 
my own conduct of a sorry mule,, and forty 
good ducats , exclusive of some rials , which 
I had stolen from my murh honoured uncle* 
The Erst thing I did , was to let my beast go 
at discretion ; that is , very gently: and thro- 
wing the bridle on her neck, I emptied my 
purse into my hat , and amused myself in 
counting my money : my joy was excessive j 
and as y had never seen so much cash before , 
I handled and gazed at it with insatiable de- 
light. ' I had reckoned it , perhaps y twenty 
times over , when , all of a sudden , my mule 
raising her head , and pricking up her ears , 



( 85) 

Stopped in tlie middle of the highway. Ima- 
gining she was frightened at something, I loo- 
ked ahout to see what was the matter , and 
perceived upon the ground an old hat , tur- 
ned up , with a rosary of great beads in it ; 
at ihe same time I heard a lamentable voice 
pronounce these words. « M. r Traveller , 
for God's sake , have pity on a poor mai- 
med soldier ! drop , if you please , a few 
hits into the hat , and you shall be rewarded 
in heaven. » I turned my eyes immediately 
on the side from whence the voice issued , 
and saw 9 at the foot of a bush , about 
twenty or thirty paces from me , a kind of 
soldier , who , upon two cross sticks , sup- 
ported the barrel of a carbine , in my appre- 
hension , longer than a pike , with which he 
seemed to take aim ai me : at this appar- 
ition , which made me quake for the church's 
money , I slopped short , and pocketing my 
ducats in a great hurry, took out some rials , 
approached the hat , that was exposed for 
the reception of extorted chanty , and 
dropped them into it , one after another 9 
that the beggar mi^ht see how nobly I used 
him. He was satisfied with the bounty , and 
gave me a benediction for every kick that 
I bestowed on the fides of my mule , in 
order to get out of his reach ; but the plaguy 
beast, regardless of my impatience , moved 
not a step the faster, having lost the power 



(86) 

of galloping , by a long habit of carrying 
my uncle at her own leisure. 

I dit not look upon this adventute as a 
very favourable omen for my journey ; I 
reflected that y might meet with something 
still worse , before I should arrive at Sala- 
manca ; and could not help blaming my 
uncle's imprudence , for having neglected to 
put me under the direction of a carrier. 
This , to be sure , was w T hat he ought to 
have done ; but he imagined that , by giving 
me his mule , -my journey would be the less 
expensive ; and he had more regard to that 
consideration , than to the dangers I might be 
exposed to on the road. In order , therefore , 
to repair his mismanagement , I determined 
( as soon as I should arrive at Pennaflor ) to 
sell the mule , and take the opportunity of 
a carrier for Astorga , from whence I could 
transport myself to Salamanca by the same 
convenience ; for , although I had never been 
out of Oviedo , I was not ignorant of the 
names of the towns through wirh I must 
pass, having informed myself of these things 
before I set out. 

I arrived in safety at Pennaflor, and , hal- 
ting at the gate of an inn that made a tole- 
rable appearance , I no sooner alighted than 
the landlord came out , and received me wilh 
great civility; he untied my portmanteau with 
his own hands f and throwing U on his shoui- 



( 37 ) 
der , conducted me into a room , while one of 
his servants led my mule into the stable. This 
inn-keeper, the greatest talker of the Asturies, 
and as ready to relate his own affairs, with- 
out being asked , as to pry into those of anot- 
her , told me that his name was Andrew 
Corcuelo ; that he had served many years ill 
the king's army, in quality of a serjeant ; and 
had quitted the service fifteen months before , 
to marry a damsel of Castropel , who ( though 
she was a little swarthy ) knew very well 
how to turn the penny. He said a thousand 
other things , which I could have dispensed 
with the hearing of; but , after having made 
me his confidant , he thought he had a right 
to exact the same condescension from me ; 
and accordingly asked whence I came , whit- 
her I was going, and what I was. I was ob- 
liged to answer , article by article ♦ for he 
accompanied every question with a profound 
bow , and begged me to excuse his curiosity 
with such a respectful air , that I could not 
refuse to satisfy him in every particular. This 
engaged me in a long conversation with him ? 
and gave me occasion to mention my design , 
and the reasons I had for disposing of my 
mule , that I might take the opportunity of 
a carrier. He approved of my intention , 
though not in a very succinct manner ; for 
he represented all the troublesome accidents 
that might befal me on the road ; he recoun- 
ted many dismal stories of travellers 5 and I 



( m 

began to be afraid he would never have done ; 
he concluded at length , however , with tell- 
ing me , that if I had a mind to sell my mule , 
he was acquainted with a very honest jockey , 
who would buy her. I assured him he would 
oblige me in sending for him ; upon which 
he went in quest of him immediately , with 
great eagerness. It was not long before he 
returned with this man, whom he introduced 
to me as a person of exceeding honesty, and 
we went into the yard all together; where 
my mule was produced and passed and repas- 
sed before the jockey , who examined her 
from head to foot, and did not fail to speak 
very disadvantageously of her I own , there 
was not much to be said in her praise ; but 9 
however , hat it been the pope's mule , he 
would have found some defects in her* He 
assured me , she had all the faults a mule 
could have ; and , to convince me of his ve- 
racity, appealed to the landlord , who , doubt- 
less , had his reasons for supporting his 
friend's assertions. « Well , » said this dealer , 
with an air of indifference , « how much 
$> money do yeou expect for this wretched 
» aaimal I » After the eulogium he had bes- 
towed on her , and the attestation of Signior 
Corcuelo , whom I believed to be a man of 
honesty and understanding,! would have given 
him my mule for nothing -> and therefore told 
him, I would rely on his integrity; bidding him 
appraise the beast in his own conscience 9 



( s 9 ) 

and I would stand to the valuation. Upon 
this he assumed the man of honour ; and re- 
plied , that in engaging his conscience, I took 
him on the weak side : in good sooth , that 
did not seem to be his sti bng side 5 for ins- 
tead of valuing her at ten or twelve pistoles 9 
as my uncle had done, he fixed the price at 
three ducats , which I accepted with as much 
jo j as if I had made an excellent bargain. 

After havinh so advantageously disposed of 
my mule , the landlord conducted me to a 
carrier , who was to set out the next day 
for Astorga. This muleteer let me know , 
that he would depart before day-break , and 
promised to awake me in time , after we had 
agreed upon the price , as well for the hire 
of the mule as for my board on the road , 
and when e\ery thing was settled between 
us , I returned to the inn with Corc-uelo , 
who , by the way , began to recount the car- 
rier's history ; he told me every circumstance 
of his character in town j and , in short , was 
going to stupify me again with his intolerable 
loquacity, when , luckily for me, a man of 
a pretty good appearance prevented my mis- 
fortune, by accosting him with great civility. 
I left them together, and went on, without 
suspecting that I had the least concern in their 
conversation. When I arrived at the inn , I 
called for supper , and it being a meagre day 9 
was fain to put up with eggs, which, while 
they got ready , I made up to my landlady % 



( 90 ) 
Whom I bad not seen before : she appeared 
handsome enough, and withal so sprightly 
and gay, that I should have concluded (even 
if her husband had not told me so ) that her 
house was pretty well frequented. When the 
amlet I had bespoke was ready , I sat down 
to table by myself; and had not yet swallow- 
ed the first morsel when the landlord came 
in , followed by the man who had stopped 
him in the street. This cavalier, who wore 
a long sword , and seemed to be about thirty 
years of age, advanced towards me with an 
eager air , saying. — « M. r Student , I am in- 
formed that you are that Signior Gil Bias of 
Santillane , who is the link of philosophy 
and ornament of Oviedo ! Is it possible that 
you are that mirror of learning , tbat sub- 
lime genius , whose reputation is so great 
in this country ? -— You know not' , conti- 
nued he , addressing himself to the inn-keeper 
and his wife , you know not what you 
possess ! You have a treasure in your house ! 
Behold , in this young gentleman , the 
eighth wonder of the world ! » Then tur- 
ning to me , and throwing his arms about my 
neck. — « Forgive , cried he , my transports ! 
I cannot contain the joy that your presence 
creates ! » 

I could not answer for some time, because 
he locked me so closaly in his arms, that I 
was almost suffocated for want of breath ; 
and it was not till I had disengaged my head 



(9* ) 
from his embraces , that I replied. — « Sig- 
ner Cavalier , I did not tink my name was 
known at Pennaflor. » « How ? known ! » 
resumed he, in his formsr strain ; « we keep 
a register off all the celebrated names within 
twenty leagues of us : you , in particular , 
are looked upon as a prodigy ; and I don't 
at all doubt , that Spain will one day be as 
proud of you , as Greece was of her Seven 
Sages' » These words were followed by a 
fresh hug ; wich I was forced to endure , 
though at the risk of strangulation. With the 
little experience I had , I ought not to have 
been the dupe of his professions and hyperboli- 
cal compliments : I ought to have known , by 
his extravagant flattery , that he was one 
of those parasites which abound in every 
town , and who , when a stranger arrives 5 
introduce themselves to him , in order to fill 
their bellies at his expence : but my youth 
and vanity made me judge quite otherwise , 
my admirer appeared to me so much of a 
gentleman , that I invited him to tacke a 
share of my supper. « Aye , with all my soul!» 
cried he ; « I am too much obliged to my kind 
stars , for having thrown me in the way of 
the illustrious Gil Bias , not to enjoy my good 
fortune as long as I can ! I have no great 
appetite , continued he . but I will sit down 
to bear you company , and eat a mouthful , 
purely out of complaisance. » 

So Saying , my panegyrist took his place 



(9* ) 
right overagainst me; and, a cover being laid 
for him , attacked the amlet as voraciously as 
if he had fasted three whole days : by his com- 
plaisant beginning , I foresaw that our dish 
would not last long , and therefore ordered 
a second ; which they dressed with su«h dis- 
patch , that it was served just as we — oy 
rather he — had made an end of the first. He 
proceeded on this with the same vigour ; and 
found means , without losing one stroke of 
his theet , to overwhelm me with praises 
during the whole repast , which made me 
very well pleased with my sweet self. He 
drank in proportion to his eating; sometimes 
to my. health, sometimes tho that of my 
father and mother, whose happiness , hi ha- 
ving such a son as me , he could not enough 
admire. All the while he plied me with wane , 
and insisted upon my doing him justice , 
while I toasted health for health ; a circum- 
stance which, together with his intoxicating 
flattery , put me into such good humour , that 
seing our second amlet half devoured, I asked 
the landlord , it he had no fish in the house, 
Signior Corcuelo , who , in all likelihood , 
had a fellow-feeling with the parasite , re- 
plied — « 1 have a delicate trout , but those 
who eat it must pay for the sauce : — Tis 
a bit too dainty for your palate , I doubt. » 
— « What do you call too dainty ? » said the 
sycophant , raising his voice ; «yau'rea wisea- 
cre 7 indeed ! Know , that there jis nothing in 



(93) 
this house too good for Signior Gil Bias of 
Santillane , who deserves to be entertained 
like a prince ! » 

I was pleased at his laying hold of the 
landlord's last words , in which he prevented 
me ; and , finding myself offended , said , 
with an air of disdain. — « Produce this 
trout of yours , Gaffer Corcuelo , and give 
yourself no trouble about the consequence. » 
This was what the innkeeper inteded : he got 
it ready, and served it up in a trice. At sight 
of this new dish , I could perceive the para- 
site's eyes sparkle with joy ; and he renewed 
that complaisance — I mean for the fish 
•— which he had already shewn for te eggs. 
At last, however , he was obliged to give 
out , for fear , of accident j being crammed 
to the very throat : having , therefore , eaten 
and drank his bellyful , he thought proper to 
conclude the farce , by rising from table , 
and accosting me in these words : — « Signior 
Gil Bias , I am too well satisfied with your 
good cheer to leave you , without offering an 
important advice , which you seem to have 
great occasion for ; henceforth beware of 
praise , and be upon your guard against every 
body you do not know. You may meet with 
other people inclined to divert themselves 
with your credulity , and , perhaps , to push 
things still further ; but don't be duped again , 
nor believe yourself ^ though they should 
swear it) the eighth wonder of the wo*ld> » 



(94) 

So saying , he laughed in my face, and stal- 
ked away. I was as much n if ected by this 
bite , as I have since been by misfortunes of 
far greater consequence. I could not forgive 
myself, for having been so grossly imposed 
upon i or rather , I was shocked to find my 
pride so humbled : «How ! » said I to myself, 
« has the traitor , then , made a jest of me I 
His design in accosting my landlord in the 
street , was only to pump him ; or perhaps 
they understood one another. Ah , simple 
Gil Bias ! go hang thyself , for shame , for 
having giveu such rascals an opportunity of 
turning thee into ridicule ! I suppose they'll 
trump up a fine story of this affair , w r hich 
will reach Oviedo , and, doubtless , do thee 
a great deal of honour ; and make thy parents 
repent their having thrown away so much 
good counsel on an ass. Instead of exhorting 
me not to wrong any body , they ought to 
have cautioned me against the knavery of the 
world ! ,, Chagrined with these mortifying 
reflections , and inflamed with resentment , 
I locked myself in my chamber , and went 
to bed : where , however , I did not sleep ; 
for , before I could close my eyes , the carrier 
came to let me know he was ready to set 
out , and only waited for me. I got up ins- 
tantly ; and while I put on my clothes , Cor- 
cuelo brought me a bill , in which , I assure 
you , the trout was not forgotten : and I was 
iiot only obliged to gratify his exorbitance 7 



(95) 
but I had also the mortification to perceive, 
while I counted the money , that the sarcastic 
knave remembered my adventure. After ha- 
ving paid sauce for a supper which I had so 
ill digested , I went to the muleteer with my 
bags, wishing the parasite, the inn-kepper 
and his inn , at the devil. Smollett. 

Gil Bias est arrete par des voleurs sur la 
route d'Astorga. 

I was not the only person who travelled 
with the carrier , there being in company 
two children belonging to a gentleman at 
Pennatlor , a little strolling ballad-singer of 
Mondonedo , and a young tradesman of As- 
torga , who was bringing home a girl whom 
he had married at Verco. We became ac- 
quainted with one another presently : and 
every one , in a very short time , told whence 
he came , and whither he was going. The 
new-married lady was so stupid and tawny , 
thad I had no great pleasure in looking at 
her , but her youth and plumpness had a dif- 
ferend effect upon the carrier , who resolved 
to make an attempt upon her inclinations : 
he spent the whole day in projecting this 
noble design , the execution of which he 
deferred until we should arrive at our last 
stage , which happened to be at Cababelos. 
He accordingly made us alight at the first 
inn we came to ? the landlord of which he 



(&6) 

knew to be a complaisant and discreet person* 
He took care to have us conducted into a 
remote apartment , where he allowed us to 
sup in tranquillity ; but when our meal was 
ended , he entered with a furious look, crying: 
— ** Blood and oons ! I am robbed of one 
hundred pistoles , which I had hi a leathern 
bag , and y must find them immediately ; 
otherwise I. will apply to the magistrate of 
the place , who is no joker in these matters , 
and have you all put to the rak , till such time 
as you confess te crime , and restore the mo- 
ney. ,, Having pronounced these dreadful 
words wit a very natural air , he went out , 
leaving us all in the utmost consternation. 

As we were strangers to each other , none 
of us had the least suspicion of the finesse ; 
for my own part , I suspected that the poor 
ballad-singer had done the deed ; and , per- 
haps he had the same opinion of me. Besides, 
we were all raw fools, utterly ignorant of 
the formalities used in such cases , and belie- 
ved in good earnest , that the process would 
be begun by putting us all to the torture. 
Giving way , therefore , to our fear , we 
evacuated the room in a great hurry , some 
runuing into the street , others flying into 
the garden , and every one betaking himself 
to his heels for safety. Among the rest the 
young tradesman of Astorga , as much 
scared as any of us at the thoughts of the 
torture , made his escape , like another 

^Eueas , 






( 97 ) 
JEneas , without incommoding himself with 
his wife. It was then that the carrier , ( as 
I have since learned) more incontinent thaa 
his mules , and overjoyed to see his stratagem 
succeed according to his expectation , went 
to the bride , boasted of his own ingenuity , 
and endeavoured to profit by the occasion : 
but this Lucrece of the Asturies , to whom 
the villainous aspect of her tempter lent new 
strength , made a vigorous resistance , and 
screamed most powerfully. The patrole , 
which happened at that instant to pass by 
the house that they knew deserved their at- 
tention , went in , and demanded the reason 
of those cries : upon which the landlord 7 
who sat singing in the kitchen ? and pretended 
to know nothing of the matter , was obliged 
to conduct the officer and his guard into the 
chamber of the person who made the noise c 
They arrived very seasonably , the chaste As- 
turian being quite exhausted ; and the com- 
mander ( who was none of the most delicate 
people in the world ) perceiving what was 
the matter 5 gave the amorous muleteer a 
wooden salutation with the handle of his hal« 
berd , addressing him at the same time ia 
terms as inconsistent with modesty as the ac- 
tion that suggested tern. This was not all : 
he apprehended the criminal , and carried 
him before the judge : together with his accu- 
ser , who , notwithstanding her disorder , 
would have gone of herself to crave justice 

E 



(9S) 
for the outrage that was committed upon her. 
The magistrate having heard , and attentively 
considered the cause 9 found the defendant 
guilty ; caused him to be stripped and scourged 
in his presence : and ordered that , if the 
husband of the plaintif should not appear 
before next day , she should be escorted to 
Astorga , by two horsemen , at the charge 
of the delinquent. 

As far me , more terrified , perhaps , than 
the rest , I got into the country , and cros- 
sing I don't know how many fields and 
heaths , and leaping all the ditches I found 
in my way , I arrived at last at the border 
of a wood , and was just going into it , with 
a view of concealing myself in some thicket, 
when all of a sudden , two men on horse- 
back appeared before me 9 and called , — 
« Who goes there I » As my surprise hinder- 
ed me from making immediate answer , they 
advanced ; and each clapping a pistol to my 
throat 9 commanded me to tell who I was , 
whence I came , my business in the forest , 
and above all things , to hide nothing from 
them. To these interrogations , the manner 
of which seemed to me equal to the rack with 
which the carrier had threatened us , I replied f 
that I was a lad of Oviedo , going to Sala- 
manca ; recounted the alarm we had under- 
gone , and confessed , that the fear of being 
put to the torture had induced me to run away. 
They burst out into a loud laugh at this db= 



t 99 ) 
tovery , which manifested the simplicity of 
my heart ; and one of them said , •*— « Take 
» courage 5 friend ; come along with us , and 
# fear nothing : we will put thee in a place 
^> of safety. » So saying , he made me get up 
behind him , and then we retreated into the 
wood* 

Though I did not know what to make of 
this rencountre > 1 did not presage any thing 
bad from it; For , « said it to myself, iftht.se 
people were thieves , they would have rob- 
bed , and perhaps murdered me , at once 
they must certainly be honest gentlemen 5 
who live hard by , and who 5 seeing me in 
a panic , have pity on my condition , and 
, carry me home with them out of charity. » 
But I did not long remain in suspense ; for • 
after several windings and turnings , which 
we performed in great silence 9 we came to 
the foot of a hill , where we alighted ; and 
one of the horsemen said to me, — « This is 
our dwelling-place. » I looked around , but 
could perceive neither house 9 hut , nor the 
least appearance of any habitation : never- 
theless , these two men listed up a huge woo- 
den trap-door , covered with earth and bram- 
bles , which concealed the entrance of a long 
shelving passage under ground , into which 
the horses went of themselves 9 like beats that 
were used to it ; while the cavaliers , taking 
the same path , made me follow them ; then 
lowering the cover , with cords fastened to 

E 2 



( IOO ) 

the inside for that purpose, behold the worthy 
kinsman of my uncle Perez caught like a 
mouse in a trap ! Smollett. 

Description de la caverne des voleurs , etc* 

I now discowered m y situation, and any one 
may easily believe that this discovery effec- 
tually dispelled my former fear : a terror 
more mighty , and better founded , took pos- 
session of my soul ! I laid my account with 
losing my life as well as my ducats j and loo- 
king upon myself as a victim led to the al- 
tar , walked ( more dead tham alive ) bet- 
ween my conductors , who , feeling me trem- 
ble , exhorted me in vain to fear nothing* 
When we had gone about two hundred paces , 
turning and descending all the way , we en- 
tered into a stable , lighted by two great iron 
lamps hanging from the arch above. Here I 
saw plenty of straw, and a good many casks 
full of provender : there was room enough 
for twenty horses; but at that time there were 
only the two that we brought along with us , 
which an old negro , who seemed vigorous 
for his years , was tying to a rack. We went 
out of the stable , and by the dismal glimmer 
of some lamps , that seemed to enlighten the 
place only to show the horrors of it , came 
to a kitchen , where an old cook-maid was 
busy in broiling steaks , and providing for 
supper. The kitchen was adorned with all 



( 101 ) 

Necessary utensils ; and hard by there was a 
larder stored with all sorts of provisions. The 
cook ( for I must draw her picture ) was a 
person somewhat turned of sixty : in her 
youth the hair of her head had been red as 
a carrot; for time had not as yet so much 
bleached it , but that one might still perceive 
some shades of its primitive colour : she had 
an olive complexion , a chin pointed and pro- 
minent, with lips fallen in, a hnge aquiline 
nose that hung over her mouth , and eyes that 
flamed in purple, 

« Well , dame Leonarda , j> said one of 
the gentlemen , presenting me to this fair 
angel of darkness , « here's a young man we 
have brought for you. » Then turning to me , 
and observing me pale and dismayed -*■ 
<<, Friend , said he , banish thy fear , we will 
do thee no harm. Having occasion for a ser- 
vant to assist our cook-maid , we met with 
thee . and happy it is for thee we did : thou 
shalt here supply the place of a young fel- 
low , who let himseil die about flfeen days 
ago j he was of a very delicate complexion ; 
but thou seemest to be more robust , and wilt; 
not die so soon : indeed , thou wilt never see 
the litght of the sun again ; but in lieu of 
that, thou shalt have good cheer , and a rou- 
zing fire. Thou shalt pass thy time with Leo- 
narda , who is a very gentle creature , and 
enjoy all thy little conveniences. I will shew 
thee , » added he 7 « that thou hast not got 

E5 



( 102 ) 

among beggars. » With these words he 
took up a flambeau , and , bidding me follow 
him , carried me into a cellar , where I saw 
an infinite number of bottles and jars well 
corked , which , he told me , were filled 
with excellent wine. He afterwards made me 
pass through several appartments , some of 
which contained bales of linen , others of 
silks and stufss : in one I perceived gold and 
silver , and a great quantity of plate in diffe- 
rent cupboards. Then I followed him into a 
large hall , illuminated by three branches of 
copper , which also gave light to the rooms 
that communicated with it : here he put fresh 
questions to me j asked my name j and rea- 
son for leaving Oviedo , and when I had satis- 
fied his curiosity in these particulars — « Wei), 
Gill Bias , » said he , u since thy design in 
quitting the place of thy nativity was to obtain 
some good post , thou must certainly have 
been born wiih a cawl upon thy head, seeing 
thou hast fallen into our hands. 1 have already 
told thee , thou shalt live here in affluence ? 
and roll upon gold and silver : nay , more 9 
thou shalt be safe $ for such is the contrivance 
of this retreat y that the officers of the holy 
brotherhood may come into the wood an 
hundred times without discovering it. The 
entry is unkoown to every soul 4 except me 
and my comrades : perhaps thou wilt won- 
der how it could be executed without being 
perceived by the people in the neighbourhood. 



\ ( io3 ) 
Know , then , my lad , that this is not a work 
of our hands , but was made many years 
ago ; for , after the Moors had got possession 
of Grenada , Arragon ,. and almost the whole 
of Spain , the Christians , rather than submit 
to the yoke of infidels , fled , and concealed 
themselves in this country, in Biscay , and in 
the Asturies, whither the valiant Don Pelagio 
retired : fugitives , and dispersed in small 
numbers , they lived in mountains and woods ; 
some lurked in caves , and others contrived 
many subterranean abodes ; of which num- 
ber this is one. Having afterwards been so 
lucky as to drive their enemies out of Spain 9 
they returned into the towns j and , since 
that time r their retreats have served for 
asylums to people of our profession. It is 
true , indeed , the holy brotherhood (1) have 
discovered and destroyed some of them ; but 
there are still plenty remaining ; and thank 
Heaven , I have lived here in safety near 
fifteen years ; my name is Captain Rolando : 
I am chief .of the company 9 and he whom 
thou sawesl with me is one of my gang. » 

Smollett. 

(0 The Holy Brotherhood in Spain , called la Santa. 
Hermandad , was formerly an association to suppress 
robbers , in times of civil commotion ; and at this day 

an establishment kept up through all the kiogdome 
and provinces of Spain for the same purposer 

E 4 



( 104 ) 

Arrivee d'autres voleurs dans le souterrain, 

Signiob Rolando had scarce done speaking , 
when six new faces appeared in the hall ; 
these were the lieutenant with five of the 
company , who returned loaded with booty , 
which consisted of two hampers full os sugar , 
cinnamon , pepper , dried figs , almonds and 
raisins. The lieutenant adressing himself to 
the captain , told him , that he had taken 
these hampers from a grocer of Benavento , 
whose mule he had also carried off. When 
he had given an account of his expedition to 
his superior , the pillage of the grocer was 
ordered into the store , and it was unani- 
mously agreed to make merry. A table being 
covered in the great hall , I was seut back 
in to the kitchen , where dame Leonarda ins- 
tructed me in the nature of my office ; and , 
yielding to necessity , ( since my cruel fate 
had so ordained , ) I suppressed my sorrow ? 
and prepared myself for the service of those 
worthy geutlemeu. 

My first essay was on the side-board , which 
I adorned with silver cups , and many stone 
bottles of that good wine which Signior Ro- 
lando praised so much. I afterwards brought 
in two ragouts , which were no sooner ser- 
ved , than the whole company sat down ta 
eat. Thy began with a good appetite, while 
I stood behind , ready to supply them with 



( io5 ) 
wine ; and acquitted myself so handsomely , 
that I had the honour to be complimented 
upon my behaviour. The captain recounted 
my story in a few words , which afforded a 
good deal of diversion , and afterwards ob- 
served that I dit not want merit : but I was 
at that time cured of my vanity , and could 
hear myself praised without danger. Not one 
of them was silent on the subject ; they said, 
I seemed born to be their cup-bearer ; that I 
was worth an hundred of my predecessors ; 
and although Dame Leonarda ( since his 
death ) had been honoured with the office of 
presenting nectar to these infernal gods , they 
divested her of that glorious employment, in 
which they installed me , like a young Ga- 
nymed succeeding an ancient Hebe, 

A great dish of roast meat , served up after 
the ragouts , finished the repast of those gor- 
mandizing thieves ; who , drinking in pro* 
portion to their gluttony , soon became fro- 
lick , some made a hellish noise , and spoke 
all together : one began a story , another 
broke a jest , a third shouted , a fourth sung; 
so that there was nothing but riot and confu- 
sion. At length Rolando , tired of a scene in 
which he was so little regarded , cried , 
(with a voice that silenced the whole com- 
pany ) : — « Gentlemen , I have a proposal 
to make ; instead of stunning one another in 
this manner , by speaking all together ,. would 
it not be better to entertain ourselves lika 

E5 



( io6 ) 

seasonable creatures ? There is a thought 
come into my head : since the time of our 
association , we have never had the curiosity 
to know what families we are derived from , 
and by what train of adventures we have 
been severalty led to embrace this way of 
life ; as these things seem worthy to be 
known , let us , for our diversion 9 commu- 
nicate them tho one another. » The lieute- 
nant , and the rest , as if they had someting 
very entertaining to relate , embraced , with 
great demonstrations of joy r the proposal of 
their chief , who began his own history in 
these words: 

« Gentlemen* , you must know that I am 
the only son of a rich citizen of Madrid j the 
day of my birth was celebrated in. the family 
by vast rejoicings. My father , pretty well 
stricken in years , was ravished at sight of an 
heir ; and my mother undertook to suckle me 
at her own breasts : her father , vho was still 
alive , was a good old man r who meddled 
with nothing but his beads ^ and recounted his 
own warlike exploits , having been many 
years in the army ;so that becoming insensibly 
the idol of these three persons , I was incesantly 
dandled in their arms. Lest study sould fatigue 
me in my tender years , I was allowed to 
spend them in the most childish amusements 5. 
my father observing , that children ought not 
to apply seriously to any thing , until time 
should have ripened their understanding. In. 



( *°7 ) 
expectation of this maturity , I never lear- 
ned to read nor write ; but , nevertheless , 
made good use of my time ; for my father 
taught me a thousand differend games. I be- 
came perfectly acquainted with cards , was 
no stranger to dice ; and my grandfather 
filled my head with romantic stories of the 
military expeditions in which he had been 
concerned. He sung the same catches over 
and over , and when I hat got ten or twelve 
lines by heart , by dint of hearing them re- 
peated for three months together, my memory 
became a subject for admiration to my pa- 
rents , who seemed no less satisfied wirh my 
genius. When , profiting by the liberty I en- 
joyed of speaking what came uppermost , I 
used to interrupt their discourse with my 
nonsensical prattle. — Ah ! what a charming 
creature it is ! Would my father cry , 
( looking at me with inexpressible delight) ; 
while my mamma overwhelmed me with ca- 
resses , and my old grandsire wept with joy, 
I committed , in their presence , the most 
indecent actions with impunity : every thing 
was forgiven ; and , in short , they adored 
me. In the mean time , having attained my 
twelfth year, without being put to school , a 
master was at length provided ; but he recei- 
ved precise orders to instruct me without 
using any violence, being ony permitted to 
threaten me sometimes with a view of inspi- 
ring me with awe. This permission had not 

E. 6 



( io8 ) 
the most salutary effects upon me, who either 
laughed at his menaces , or , whit tears in 
my eyes , went and complained to my mother 
and grand-papa of his barbarity. It was in 
vain for the poor devil to deny the accusation ; 
he was looked upon as a tyrant , and my as- 
sertion always believed , in spite of his re- 
monstrance. I happened one day to scratch 
myself, upon which , setting up my pipes 
as if he had flayed me , my mother came 
running in , and tourned my master out of 
doors , though he protested , and took Heaven 
to witness r that he had not touched my 
ski n. 

» Li the same manner I got rid of all my 
preceptors , until such an one as I wanted 
presented himself : this was a batchelor of 
Aicala ; an excellent tutor for a person of 
fashion's child ! he was a lover of play wo- 
men and wine , consequently the fittest person 
in the world for me. The first thing he set 
about was y to gain my affection , in which 
he succeeded ; and by these means gained the 
love of my parents , who left me en tirely to 
his management. Indeed , they had no cause 
to repent of their confidence ; for , in a very 
little time , he made me perfect in the know- 
ledge of te world. By dint of carryng me 
along with him to the places he frequented , 
I imbibed his taste so well , that , except in 
Latin > I became an universal proficient j and 
when he found I had no farther occasion fo? 



( ^g ) 
his instructions , he went to offer them else- 
where. 

If, during my childhood , I had lived 
pretty freely , it was quite another thing 
•when I became master of my own actions : 
I every moment ridiculed my parents , who 
did nothing but laugh at my sallies , which 
were the more agreeable , the more insolence 
they contained. Meanwhile I committed 
all kinds of debauchery in the company of 
other young men of the same disposition ; 
and as our parents did not supply us with 
money sufficient to support such a delicious 
life , every one pilfered what he could at 
his own home ; but that being also insuffi- 
cient , we began to rob iii the dark ; when 7 
unfortunately , the corregidor got notice of 
us , and would have caused us to be appre- 
hended , had we not been informed of his 
treacherous design ; upon which we consul- 
ted our safety in fight , anh transferred the 
scene of our exploits to the highway. Since 
w T hich time , gentlemen , God has given me 
grace to grow old in my profession , in spite 
of the dangers to which it is exposed. » 

Here the captain left of speaking ; and the 
lieutenant > taking his turn , began with — 
« Gentlemen , an education quite opposite to 
that of Signior Rolando has , nevertheless 9 
produced the same effect. My father was a 
butcher of Toledo 3 reckoned the greatest brute 
in the whole city ; nor was my mother's dis- 



( »o) 

position much more gentle. While I was a 
child , they whipped me as if it had been 
through emulation , at the rate of a thousand 
stripes a day : the least fault 1 committed was 
attended with the most severe chastisement ; 
and it was in vain for me to ask pardon , with 
tears in my eyes , and protest that 1 was sorry 
for what I had done ; far from being forgiven , 
I was often punished without a cause : while 
my father belaboured me , my mother , ( as 
if he ad not exerted himself , ) instead of inter- 
ceding for her child , frequently came to his 
assistance. This treatment inspired me with- 
such aversion to my paternal habitation , that 
I ran away before I had attained my four- 
teenth year ; and taking the road of Arragon <, 
went to Saragossa , subsisting on charity by 
the way. There I consorted with beggars , 
who led a pretty comfortable life ; they taught 
me to counterfeit blindness 9 to appear lame 9 
and afflict my limbs with fictitious ulcers, etc. 
In the morning , (like players , who disguise 
themselves in order to appear upon the stage,) 
we prepared ourselves for the different parts 
we intended to act, and every one ran to 
his post : in the evening we met again , and 
enjoyed ourselves all night , at the expence 
of those who had compassion on us in the 
day. Tired , however, of living among those 
wretches , and ambitious of appearing in a 
higher sphere , I associated myself with some 
knights of the post ? who taught me a great 



( si* ) 

many stratagems ; but we were , in a very 
short time , obliged to quit Saragossa , having 
quarrelled with a certain justice , whose pro= 
tection we had enjoyed. Every one took his 
own course : for my own part , I engaged 
myself in a company of brave fellows , who 
put travellers under contribution ; and liked 
their manner of living so well , that hitherto 
I hava never felt the least inclination to seek 
another. I am , therefore , gentlemen , very 
muche obliged to the barbarity of my parents i 
for had they treated me a little less savagely,, 
instead of being an honourable lieutenant , I 
should have been , doubtless , at this day , a 
miserable butcher. » 

The next that spoke was a young thief; who p 
sitting between the captain and lieutenant^ 
said , « Gentlemen , the stories we have 
heard are neither so complicated, nor so cu- 
rious as mine. I owe my being to a peasant's 
wife,, who lived in the neighbourhood of Se- 
ville : three weeks after she had brought ms 
into the world y ( being still young , hand- 
some , and healthy, ) it was proposed to her 
to nurse a man of quality's only son , lately 
born in Seville. This proposal my mother 
cheerfully accepted , and went to fetch the 
child; which being committed to her care , she 
no sooner brought it home to her house , thaa 
perceiving some small resemblance between 
u&, she was tempted to make me pass lot the 
iaJkat of qaality , in hopes that she should cms 



( H2 ) 

day be well rewarded by me for that kind 
office 5 my father , who was not more scru- 
pulous than his neighbours, approved of the 
deceit ; so that, after having made us exchange 
swaddlingclothes , the son of Don Kodrigo 
de Herrera was sent to another nurse under 
my name , and my mother suckled me under 
his. 

» Notwithstanding all the fine things that 
are said of instinct , and the force of blood , 
the little gentleman's parents swallowed the 
change with great ease : they had not the least 
suspicion of the trick that was played upon 
them j for, till I was seven years old , I was 
scarce ever out of their arms. Their intention 
being to make me a compleat cavalier , all 
sorts of masters were provided ; but I had no 
great inclination for the exercices I learned , 
and still less relish for the sciences they ex- 
plained ; I loved much better to game with 
the servants , for whose company I frequented 
the kitchen and stable : but play was not long 
my predominant passion ; for before I was 
seventeen years of age , I got drunk daily , 
seduced all the women in the housse , but atta- 
ched myself chiefly to the cook-maid, who 
seemed to merit my principal regard : she was 
a fat jolly wench , whose pleasantry and fleek- 
ness pleased me much ; and I made love to 
her with so little circumspection , that Don 
Rodrigo himself perceived it. He reprimanded 
me sharply j reproached me with the baseness 



( »5) 

bl my inclinations ; and, lest the sight of this 
amiable object should render his remonstran- 
ces ineffectual , turned my princess out of 
doors. 

» I was disgusted at this piece of conduct , 
for which I resolved to be revenged : with this 
view , I stole his lady's jewels , and running 
in quest of my fair Helen , who had retired to 
the housse of a washer- woman of her acquain- 
tance, I carried her off, at noon-day, tho the 
end that nobody might be ignorant of my pas- 
sion. That was not all : I conducted her into 
her own country , where I married her in a 
solemn manner , that I might not only give 
Herrera the more vexation , but also afford 
such a worthy example to the children of no- 
blemen. Three months after my marriage , I 
was informed of Dan Rodrigo's death ; a piece 
of news I dip* not receive with indifference ; but 
repairing instantly to Seville , in order to de- 
mand his estate , I found things strangely alte- 
red. My mother , who was dead , had been 
silly enough , on her death , to confess the 
whole affair , in presence of the curate of the 
village , and other credible witnesses ; in con- 
sequence of which , theVue son of Don Ro- 
drigo was already in possession of my place , 
or rather of his own ; and had been received 
with the more joy , on account of their being 
dissatisfied with me. Wherefore , having no- 
thing to expect from that quarter , and no Ion- 
. ger feeling any inclination for my fat spouse t 



( 2X4 ) 
i joined some gentlemen of the road , with 
whom I began my expeditions. » 

The young robber having ended his story, 
another informed us , that he was the son of 
a merchant at Burgos , and prompted by au 
inconsiderate devotion , had takeu the habit , 
and professed a very austere order , from 
which , in a few years , he apostatized. In 
short , those eight highwaymen spoke in their 
turns ; and when I had heard them all, I v was 
not all surprized to find them together. 
The discourse was afterwards changed ; they 
brought upon the carpet several .projects for 
their next excursions , and after having come 
lo a determination , got up from table , in or- 
der to ga to rest. Having lighted their W'ax 
candles, and withdrawn , I followed Captain 
Rolando into his chamber , where , while I 
helped to undies him ; « Well , Gil Bias , 
sayd he ,, thou, seest how we live : we are al- 
ways merry , and hatred and envy never get 
footing among us : we never have the least 
quarrel with one another , but are more uni- 
ted tham a convent of monks : thou wilt , my 
child, » pursued hg^.« lead a very agreeable 
life ia this place ; QR don t believe thee fool 
enough to boggle at living with robbers. Eh ! 
dost thou think there any honester people 
in the world than we I No , my lad , every 
one loves to prey upon his fellows ; it is an 
universal principle , though variously exerted^ 
Conquerors (for example) seize upon the terxi* 



( 1x3 ) 

tories of their neighbours; people of quality bor- 
row without any intention of repaying; ban- 
kers , treasurers , exchange-brokers, clerks 7 
and all kinds of marchants , great and small 9 . 
are not a whit more conscientious. As for your 
limbs of the law , I need not mention them ;, 
every body knows what they can do : I must 
own ,howewer, that they are somewhat more 
humane than we ; for we often put innocent 
people to death, and they sometimes save the 
lives of the guilty. Smollett, 

Tentative dc Gil Bias pour sechapper* 

When the captain of the thieves had made 
this apology for his profession , he went to 
bed , and I returned into the hall , where I 
uncovered the table , and put every thing in 
order ; from thence I went into the kitchen ? 
where Domingo (so was the old negro cal- 
led ) expected me to supper. Though I had no 
appetite , I sat down w T ith them ; but as I 
could not eat, and appeared as melancholy as 
I had cause to be so , these two apparitions r 
equally qualified, undertook to give me conso- 
lation. « Why do you afflictyourself , child !» 
said the old lady : « you ought rather to rejoice 
at your good fortune. You are young , and 
seem to be of an easy temper ; consequently 
would have been in a little time , lost in the 
World : there you would have fallen into th& 



( it6 ) 
hands of libertines , who would have enga- 
ged you in all manner of debauchery ; whe- 
reas , here your innocence finds a secure ha- 
ven. » — « Dame Leonarda is in the right , » 
said the old black-a-moor , with great gravity j 
« and let me add , the world is full of affliction : 
thank Heaven , therefore , my friend , for ha- 
ving delivered thee all at once from the dan- 
gers 5 difficulties , and miseries of live. » 

I bore their discourse with patience , because 
to fret myself would have done me no ser- 
vice : at last Domingo having eaten and 
drunck plentifully , retired into the stable ; 
while Leonarda , with a lamp in her hand , 
conducted me into a vault , which ferved as a 
fourying-place to the robbers who died a na- 
tural death , and in which I perceived a mise- 
rable truckle-bed , that looked more like a 
tomb than a couch : « Here is your bedcham- 
ber , » « said she : « the lad , whose place you 
have the good fortune to supply , slept here , as 
long as he lived amongst us ; and now that he 
is dead , rests in the same place. He stipped 
away in the flower of his age : I hoppe you 
will not be so simple as to follow his exam- 
le. » So saying , she put the light into my 
hand , and returnati into te kitchen; while I> 
setting the lamp upon the ground , threw my- 
self upon the bed , not so much in expectation 
of enjoying the least repose , as with a view 
to indulge my melancholy reflections. « O 
Heaven ! cried 1 , was ever destiny so ten ibis 



( "7 ) 
as mine ! I am banished from the fight of the 
sun > and , as if it was not enough to be bu«* 
ried alive at the age of eighteen , I am moreo- 
ver condemned to serve thieves, to spend the 
day among highwaymen , and the night 
among the dead ! » I wept bitterly over these 
suggestions, which seemed to me, and were, 
in effect , extremely shocking. A thousand ti- 
mes I cursed my uncle's design of sending me 
to Salamanca : I repented of my flying from 
justice at Cacabelos , and even wished I had 
submitted to the torture. But recollecting that 
I injured myself in vaiu complaints to no 
purpose , I began to think of some means by 
which I might escape. What , said 9 I to my- 
self, is it then impossible to deliver myself ! 
the thieves are asleep ; the cook-maid and ne- 
gro will be in the same condition presently; 
cannot I , while they are all quiet , by the 
help of my lamp , find out the passage through 
which I descended into this infernal abode ! It 
is true , indeed , I don't think myself strong 
enough to lift the trap-door that covers the 
entry ; but , however , that I may have no- 
thing to reproach myself with , I will try ; 
my despair will , perhaps , supply me with 
strength , and who knows but I may accom- 
plish it ! » 

Having then projected this great design , I 
got up , when I imagined Leonarda and Do- 
mingo were at rest j and taking the lamp in 



< "8 ) 
tnv hand , went out of the vault , recommen- 
ding myself to all the saints in heaven. It was 
not without great difficulty that I found again 
all the windings of this new labyrinth, and 
arrived at the door of the stable ; where , at 
last , perceiving the passage I was in search 
of , I w r ent into it , advancing towards the 
trap , with as much nimblemess as joy : but, 
alas ! in the middle of the entry I met with a 
cursed iron gate, fast locked, and consisting 
of strong bars , so close to one another, that I 
could scarce thrust my hand between them. I 
was confounded at the sight of this new obsta- 
cie , which I had not observed when I came 
in , the grate being then open : I did not fail, 
however , to feel the bars and examine the 
lock, which I even attempted to force: when 
all of a sudden, I felt, accross my shoulders, 
five or six lusty thwacks with a bull's pizzle; 
upon which , I uttered such a dreadfulyell , 
that the whole cavern echoed with the sound; 
and looking behind me, perceived the old ne- 
gro in this shirt , with a dark lanthorn in one 
hand , and the instrument of execution in 
the other, « Ah , ah ! Mr. Jackanapes , said 
he , you want to make your escape 9 hah ! You 
mnust not imagine that I am to be caught nap- 
ping. I he.ird you all the while. I suppose 
you thought the grate was open , did n't you I 
Know, my boy , that henceforth thou shaft 
always find it shut j and that , when we de~ 



( "9 5 

tain any body here against his inclination , 
he must be more cuning than thou , if ever 
he gets off. » 

In the mean time , two or three of the thie- 
ves , starting out of their sleep , at the noise 
of cries , and believing that the holy brother- 
hood was coming souse upon them , got up in 
a hurry , and alarmed their companions. In 
an instant all were a foot ; and , seizing their 
swords and carbines , advanced half naked to 
the place where Domingo chastised me ; but 
they no sooner understood the cause of the 
noise they had heard , than their uneasiness 
was changed into fits of laughter. « How , 
Gil Bias ! said the apostate thief to me , thou 
hast not been here six hours , and want'st 
to take thy leave of us already ! Sure thou 
must have a great aversion to a retired life 9 
bah I What wouldst thou do , if thou wert a 
Carthusian friar I Go to bed ; thou art quit for 
once , on account of the stripes Domingo has 
bestowed on thee ; but if ever thou should'st 
make another effort for escape, by St. Bartho- 
lomew ! we will flay thee alive ! » This said, 
he withdrew ; the other thieves retired into 
their apartments ; the old negro , proud of his 
exploit , returned into his stable ; and I snea- 
ked back to my Golgotha , where I spent 
the remaining part of the night in sighs and 
tears* Smollet* 



( I2Q ) 

De ce que fit Gil Bias ne pouyant jaitc 
mieux* 

During the first days of my captivity , I was 
like to sink under the sorrow that oppressed 
me , and might have been said to die by in- 
ches ; but at last , my good genius inspired 
me with the resolution to dissemble : I affec- 
ted to appear less sad than usual ; I began to 
laugh and sing, though, God knows, with 
an aching heart. In a word , I counterfeited 
so well , that Leonarda and Domingo were 
deceived , and believed that the bird was at 
last reconciled to his cage. The robbers were 
of the same opinion; for I assumed a gay air 
when I filled wine for them , and mingled in 
their conversation , whenever I found an op- 
portunity of acting the buffoon. This free- 
dom , far from displeasing , afforded ihem in- 
version* <s Gil Bias , said the captain to me 
pile evening , while I entertained them in this 
manner , thou hast done well , my lad , to ba- 
nish thy melancholy ; I am charmed with thy 
wit and humour : I find people are not known 
all at once; for I did not think thou hast been 
so sprightly and good-natured. » 

The rest joined also in my praise , and ap- 
peared so well satisfied with me, that taking 
the advantage of this good disposition « Gent- 
» lemen 3 » said I , « allow me to tell my 
mind : since my abode in this place , I find 

myself 



( 121 

myself quite another sort of a person than he- 
retofore. You have divested me of the preju- 
dices of education , and I sensibly imbibe 
your disposition : I have a taste for your pro- 
fession , and a longing desire of being ho- 
noured with the name of your companion , 
and of sharing the dangers of your expedi- 
tions. » All the company approved of my dis- 
course, and commended my forwardness; so 
that it was unanimously resolved , to let me 
serve a little longer , in order to approve 
myself worthy , then carry me out in their 
excursions ; after which , I should obtain the 
honourable place I demanded. 

Well , then , I was obliged to persist in 
my dissimulation , and exercise the post of 
cup-bearer still , a circumstnce that morti- 
fied me extremely : for my design in aspi- 
ring to tbe honour of becoming a thief, was 
only to have the liberty of taking air with 
the rest , in hopes that one day 1 should be 
able to escape from them , in the course of 
their expeditions. This hope alone supported 
my life ; but nevertheless appeared so dis- 
tant , that I tried more than once to baffle 
the vigilance of Domingo ; though it was 
never in my power , he being always so much 
upon his guard, that I would have defied au 
hundred Orpheuses to charm such a Cerberus. 
It is true, indeed, I did not do all that I could 
have done to beguile him , lest I should have 
awakened his suspicion j for he had a hawk's 

F 



( *22 ) 

eye over me, and I was obliged to act with 
the utmost circumspection , that I mi^ht not 
betray myself. I therefore resigned myself to 
my fate , until the time should he expired that 
was prescribed by the robbers for the recei- 
ving me into the gang ; and this event I ex- 
pected as impatiently as if T had been to be 
inrolled in a list of commissioners. 

Heaven be praised ! in six months that 
time arrived ; when Signior Rolando , ad- 
dressing himself to his company , said , 
« Gentlemen , we must keep our word with 
Gil Bias: I have no bad opinion of that young 
fellow , and I hope we shall make something 
of him : it is therefore my opinion , that we 
carry him along with us to-morrow to gather 
laurels on the highway , and usher him into 
the path of glory. » The robbers agreed to 
their captain's proposal : and to shew that 
they already looked upon me as one of their 
companions , from that moment dispensed 
with my service , and re-established Dame 
Leonarda in tha office she had lost on my ac- 
count. They made me throw away my habit, 
that consisted of a sorry thread-bare short cas- 
sock , and dressed me in the spoils of a gent- 
leman whom they had lately robbed , after 
which I prepared myself for my first campaign. 

Smollett. 



( 123 ) 

Gil Bias accompagne les voleurs sur les 
grands chemins. 

It was in the month of September 5 when , 
towards the close of the night, I came out of 
the cavern ., in company with the robbers j 
armed like them, with a carbine , two pis- 
tols, sword and bayonet , and mounted on a 
pretty good horse , which they had taken 
from the same gentleman whose dress I wore, 
I had lived so long in darkness , that when 
day broke , I was dazzled with the litgh ; 
which however , soon became familiar to my 
eyes. 

Having passed hard by Ponferrad , we lay 
iii ambush in a small wood which border- 
ed on the road to Leon. There we waited , 
expecting that fortune would throw some 
good luck in our way ; when we perceived 
a Dominican ( contrary to the custom of 
these good fathers ) riding upon a sorry muleo 
« God be 'praised, » cried the captain , la»- 
ghing , « theres's the coup d'essai of Gil Bias $ 
Let him go and unload that monk , while 
we observe his behaviour. » All the rest were 
of opinion , that this was a very proper 
commission for me ; and exhorted me to ac- 
quit myself handsomely hi it « Gentlemen , * 
said I , « you shall be satisfied : I will make 
that priest as bare as my hand , and brin«- 
hither his mule in a twinkling. » — « No, no * 

F 2 



( 124 ) 

replied Rolando , she is not worth the trou* 
Me: bring us only the purse of his reverence; 
that is all we can expect of thee. » For this pur- 
pose , I sallied from the wood , and made 
towards the clergyman ; begging Heaven , 
all the way , to pardon the action I was 
about to commit. I would gladly have made 
my escape that moment ; but the greatest part 
of the thieves were better mounted than I : 
and , had they perceived me running away , 
would have been at my heels in an instant , 
and entrapt me again in a very short time , 
or , perhaps , discharged their carbines at me ; 
in which case , I should have nothing to brag 
of. Not daring , therefore , to hazard such a 
delicate step , I came up with the priest , and 
clapping a pistol to his breast , demanded his 
purse. He stopped short to surveys me ; and 
without seeming much afraid , « Child, said 
he , you are very young : you have got a 
bad trade by the hand betimes. » Bad as it 
is , father ? I replied , I wish I had began it 
sooner. — « Ah ! son , son , » said the good 
friar , ( who did not comprehend the true 
meaning of my words ) « what blindness ! 
allow me to represent to you the misera- 
ble conditiou. — ■ O father , said I , interrup- 
ting him hastily, a truce with your morals, 
if you please ! my business on the high way 
it not to hear sermons : I want money. 
Money ! cried he , with an air of astonish- 
ment \ « you are little acquainted with the 



( **5 ) 

charity of the Spaniards , if you think people 
of my cloth have occasion for money, while 
they travel in this kingdom. Undeceive your- 
self j we are every where cheerfully received , 
having lodging and victuals $ and nothing is 
asked in return , but our prayers : in short j 
we never carry money about us on the road; 
but confide altogether in Providence. — That 
won't go down with me , I replied : your de- 
pendance is not altogether so visionary ; for, 
you have always some good pistoles in reserve, 
to make more sure of Providence. But , my 
good father , added I , let us have done ; my 
comrades , who are in that wood , begin to 
be impatient ; therefore throw your purse 
upon the ground instantly , or I shall cer- 
tainly put you to death. » 

At these words , which I uttered with a 
menacing look , the friar , seeming afraid of 
his life, said, « Hold ! y will satisfy you then , 
since there is a necessity for it : 1 see tropes 
and figures have no effect on people of your 
profession. » So saying , he pulled from un- 
derneath his gown a large purse of shammy 
leather , which he dropped upon the ground. 
Then I told him , he might continue his jour- 
ney ; a permission he did not give me the 
least trouble of repeating ; but clapping his 
heels to the sides of his mule , which belying 
the opinion I had conceived of her , ( I 
imagined she was not much better than my 
uncle's ) all of a sudden went off at a pretty 

F5 



( 126 ) 

round pace. As soon as he was at a distance f 
I alighted , aad taking up the purse , which 
seemed heavy , mounted again , and got back 
to the wood in a trice ; where the thieves 
wailed with impatience to eongratulaie me 
upon my victory. Scarce would they give me 
time to dismount, so eager were they to em- 
brace me. « Courage , Gil Bias ! said Kolando , 
thou hast done wonders ; I have had my eyes 
on thee during thy expedition ; I have obser- 
ved thy countenance all the time and I pro- 
phesy 9 thou wilt in time become an excel- 
lent highwayman. » The lieutenant and the 
rest approved of the prediction 9 which they 
assured me I should one day certainly fulfil. 
I thanked them for the high idea they had con- 
ceived of me , and promised to do all that 
lay in my power to maintain it. 

After they had loaded me with so much 
undeserved praise 9 they were desirous of exa- 
mining the booty I had made. « Come , said 
they , let us see what there is in the clergy- 
man's purse. » « It ought to be well furnished y 
continued one among them ; for those good 
fathers dont' travel like pilgrims. » The cap- 
tain untied the purse , and opening it , pulled 
out two or three handfuls of copper medals ,. 
mixed with bits of hollowed wax , and some 
scapularies (i). At the sight of such an uncom- 
mon prey ., all the robbers burst out into an 

(i) Scapularies are pieces of consecrated stuff, won^ 
b} p debts aud nuns. 



( »»*■) 

immoderate fit of langhter. « Upon my soul 9 
cried the lieutenant , we are very much obli- 
ged to Gil Bias , for having in his coup d'es- 
sai , performed a theft so salutary tho the com- 
pany. » This piece of wit brought on more. 
Those miscreants , and he in particular who 
had apostatized , began to be very merry 
upon the matter : a thousand sallies escaped 
them, that too well denoted their immorality. 
I was the only person who did not laugh ; 
my mirth being checked by these railers , who 
enjoyed themselves at my expense. Every one 
having shot his bolt , the captain said to me , 
« In faith , Gil Bias , I advise thee , as a 
friend, to joke no more with monks; who 
are , generally speaking , too arch and cun- 
ning for such as thee. » Smollett. 

Affaire serieuse qui suivit son aventure. 

We remained in the wood the greatest part 
of the day , without perceiving any traveller 
that could make amends for the priest. At last 
we left it , in order to return to our cavern , 
confining our exploits to that ludicrous event , 
which still constituted the subject of our dis- 
course , whn we discovered , at a distance , 
a coach drawn by four mules , advancing at 
a brisk trot , and escorted by three men on 
horseback , who seemed well armed. Upon 
this , Rolando ordered his troop to halt , and 
held a council j the result of which was , that; 

F4 



( 128) 
Ihey should attack the coach. We were im- 
mediately arranged according to his diposi- 
tion , and marched up to it in order of battle. 
In spite of the applause I had acquireed in the 
wood, I felt myself seized with an universal 
tremor , and immediately a cold sweat broke 
out all over my body , which I looked upon 
as no very favourable omen. To crown my 
good lurk , I was in the front of the line , 
between the captain and lieutenant, who had 
stationed me there , that I might accustom 
myself to stand fire all at once. Rolando ob- 
serving how much nature suffered within me, 
looked at me askaunce , saying with a fierce 
countenance , « Hark'e , Gil Bias ; remem- 
ber to do thy duty ; for if thou hang'st an 
arse, I'll blow thy brains out. « I was too 
well persuaded that he would keep his word , 
to neglect this caution ; for which reason I 
thought of nothing now , but of recommen- 
ding my soul to God. 

In the mean time , the coach and horse- 
men approached , who knowing what sort 
of people we were , and guessing our design 
by our appearance , stopped within musket- 
shot , and prepared to receive us j while a 
gentleman of a good mien , and richly dress- 
ed , came out of the coach , and mounting 
a horse that was led by one of his atten- 
dants , put himself at their head , without any 
other arms than a sword and a pair of pistols. 
Though they were but four agamstnme, (th* 



( I2 9 ) 
coachman remaining on the seat ) they ad- 
vanced towards us with a boldness that re- 
doubled my fear. I did not fail , however , 
though I trembled in every joint , to make 
ready to fire ; but , to tell the truth , I shut 
my eyes , and turned away my head when 
I discharged my carbine ; and , considering 
the manner in which it went off, my con- 
science ought to be acquitted on that score. 

I will not attempt to describe the action; 
for although I was present , I saw nothing; 
and my fear , in confounding my imagina- 
tion , concealed from me the horror of the 
spectacle that occasioned it. All I know of 
the matter is , that after a great noise of 
firing , I heard my companions shout , and 
cry 9 « Victory ! Victory » ! At that exclama- 
tion , the terror which had taken possession 
of my senses dissipated , and I saw the four 
horsemen stretched lifeless on the field of 
battle. On our side we had but one man 
killed , and he was no other than the apo- 
state , who had met with his deserts for his 
apostacy and profane jests upon the scapula- 
ries. The lieutenant received a wound in the 
arm ; but it was a very slight one , the shoot 
having only ruffled the skin. 

Signior Rolando ran immediately to the 
door of the coach , in which there was a lady 
of about four or five and twenty years of a^e 
who appeared very handsome , notwithstan- 
ding the melancholy condition in which she 

F 5 



( i3o) 
was ; for she had swooned during the enga- 
gement , and was not yet recovered. While 
he was busied in looking after her , we took 
care of the booty , beginning with securing 
the horses of the killed , which , frighted at 
the noise of the firing, had run away, after 
having lost their riders. As for the mules ^ 
they had not stirred , altho 5 the coachman , 
during the aetion , had quitted his place , in 
order to make his escape. We a.ligthed ; and , 
unyoking , loaded them with some trunks we 
found fastened to the coach , before and be- 
hind. This being done , the lady 3 who had 
not as yet recovered her senses ,. was , by order 
of the captain , taken out , and placed on 
horseback before one of the robbers that was 
best mounted; after which, quitting the high 
road , the coach r and the dead , whom we 
had stripped , we carried off the lady , the 
mules-, and the horses. Smollett. 

Comment se comporterent les voleurs avee 
la Dame* Projet de Gil Bias et succes 
quil eut> 

It was within, an hour of day-break when, 
we arrived at our habitation ; and the first 
thing we did was, to lead our beasts into 
the stable , where we were obliged to tie 
them to the rack , and take care of them 
with our own hands , the old negro having 
hwn th^ee days before seized with a fit of the 



( >3i ) 

gout and rheumatism , that kept him abed , 
deprived of the use of his limbs j the only 
member at liberty was his tongue , which he 
employed in testifying his impatience by the 
most horrible execrations. Leaving this mise- 
rable wretch to swear and blaspheme , we 
went to the kitchen , where our whole at- 
tention was engrossed by the lady , and we 
succeeded so well as to bring her out of her 
fit ; but when she had recovered the use of 
her senses , and saw herself in the hands of 
several men whom she did not know , she 
perceived her misfortune , and was seized 
with horror ! The mots lively sorrow and 
direful despair appeared in her eyes , which 
she lifted up to heaven , as if to reproach 
it with the indignities that threatened her; 
then giving way of a sudden to these dismal 
apprehensions, she relapsed into a swoon , 
her eye-iids closed , and the robbers imagined 
that death would deprive them of their prey. 
The captain , thinking it more proper to leave 
her to herself, than to torment her with their 
assistance 5 ordered her to be carried to Leo- 
narda's bed , where she was left alone > at the 
hazard of what might happen. 

We repaired to the hall , where one of the 
thieves, who had been bred a surgeon , dressed 
the lieutenant's wound : after which , being 
desirous of seeing what was in the trunks , 
we found some of them filled with lace and 
liaen „ others with clothes ; and the last we 

F 6 



( 132 ) 

opened contained some bags full of pistoles ; 
at sight of which , the gentlemen concerned 
were infinitely rejoiced. This enquiry being 
made , the cook-maid furnished the side-board, 
laid the cloth , and served up supper. Our 
conversation at first turned upon the great 
victory we had obtained j and Rolando ad- 
dressing himself to me , « Confess , Gil Bias », 
said he , « confess that thou wast horribly 
afraid. » I ingenuously owned , that what he 
said was very true ; but that when I should 
have made two or three campaigns , I would 
fight like a knight errant : whereupon the 
whole company took my part , observing that 
my fear w 7 as excusable ; that the action had 
been very hot ; and that, considering I was 
a young fellow who had never smelled gun- 
powder, I had acquitted myself pretty welk 
The discourse afterwards turning upon the 
mules and horses we had brought into our 
retreat , it was agreed that tomorrow before 
day we should all set out togetheter , in order 
to sell them at Mansilla ; which place , in 
all probability , the report of our expedition 
had not yet reached. This resolution being 
taken , we- finished our meal , and returned 
into the kitchen to visit the lady , whom we 
found still in the same situation. Nevertheless, 
tho' it was with difficulty we could perceive 
any signs of life in her , some of the villains 
did not scruple to regard her with a prophage 
eye , and even to discover a brutal desire 2 



( r33 ) 
which they would have satisfied immediately, 
had not Rolando prevented it , by representing 
to them , that they ought , at least to wait until 
the lady should get the better of that oppres- 
sion of sorrow which deprived her of reflec- 
tion. The respect they had for their captain 
restrained their incontinence ; otherwise , no- 
thing could have saved the lady , whose ho- 
nour death itself, perhaps , would not have 
been able te secure. 

We left this unfortunate gentlewoman in 
the same condition in which we found her ; 
Rolando contenting himself with laying in- 
junctions on Leouarda to take care of her , 
while every one retired into his own apart- 
ment. Foi my own part , as soon as 1 got 
to bed , instead of resigning myself to sleep , 
I did nothing but think of the lady's misfor- 
tune : I never doubted that she was a person 
of quality, and looked upon her situation as 
the more deplorable for that reason. I could 
not , without shuddering , represent to myself 
the horrors to which she was destined , and 
felt myself as deeply concerned for her as if 
I had been attached by blood or friendship. 
At last , after having bewailed her hard fate, 
I began to revolve the means of rescuing her 
honour from the danger in which it was , 
and of delivering myself at the same time 
from the subterranean abode. I recollected 
that the old negro was not in a condition to 
move | and that , since his being taken, ill , 



( m y 

the cook-wench kept the key of the grate* 
This reflection warmed my imagination, and 
made me conceive a scheme which I digested 
so well , that I proceeded to put it in practice 
immediately in the following manner. 

Pretending to be racked with the cholic , 
I began with complaints and groans-; then 
raising my voice , uttered dreadful cries , that 
awakened the robbers , and brought them in- 
stantly to my bed-side. When they asked 
what made me roar so hideously , I answe- 
red that I was tortured with an horrible cho- 
lic ; and , the better to persuade them of the 
truth of what I said , grinded my teeth , made 
frigthful grimaces and contortions , and writ- 
hed myself in a strange manner ; then I became 
quiet all of a sudden, as if my pains had given 
me some respite. In a moment after, I began 
again to bounce upon the bed , and*twist about 
my limbs ; in a word , I placed my partjso 
well , that the thieves , cunning as they were , 
allowed themselves to be deceived , and be- 
lieved , in good earnest , that I was violently 
griped. In a moment , all of them were busied 
in endeavours to ease me : one brought a bottle 
of usqiiebaugh , and made me swallow one 
half of it; another , in spite of my teeth , in- 
jected a clyster of oil of sweet almonds; a 
third warmed a napkin , and applied it broi- 
ling hot to my belly. I roared for mercy ia 
vain : they imputed my cries to the cholic ;> 
and continued to make me suffer real pains , 



( x35) 

in attempting to free me from one I did not 
feel. At last , being able to resist them no 
longer, I was fain to tell them that the gripes 
had left me , and to conjure them to give me 
quarter. Upon which they left off tormenting 
me with their remedies , and I took care to 
trouble them no more with my complaint 9 
for fear of undergoing their good offices a se- 
cond time. 

This scene lasted almost three hours ; after 
which, the robbers, judging that day was 
not far off, prepared themselves to set out for 
Mansilla : I would have got up T to make 
them believe I was desirous of accompanying 
them ; but they would not suffer me to rise , 
Signior Rolando saying. « No, no , Gil Bias! 
stay at home , child ; thy cholic may return, 
Thou shalt go with us another time : but thou 
art in no condition to go abroad to-day. « I 
was afraid of insisting upon it too much , lest 
he should yield to my request : therefore I 
only appeared very much mortified , because 
I could not be of the party. This I acted so 
naturally , that they went out of the cavern 
without the least suspicion of my design. After 
their departure , which I had endeavoured to- 
hasten by my prayers t I said to myself ?: 
« Now, Gil Bias l now is the time for thee to 
have resolution : arm thyself with courage r 
to finish that which thou hast so happily be- 
gun. Domingo is not in a condition to oppose 
ihv enterprise , and Leoaarda cannot hiiidejr 



( 136) 
its execution. Seize this opportunity of esca- 
ping , than which , perhaps , thou wilt never 
find one more favourable. » These sugges- 
tions filled me with confidence ; I got up , 
took my sword and pistols , and went first 
towards the kitchen ; but before I entered , 
hearing Leonarda speaking , stopped in order 
to listen. She was talking to the unknown 
lady ; who having recovered her senses , and 
understood the whole of her misfortune, wept 
in the utmost bitterness of despair. « Weep , 
my child, » said the old beldame to her ; «dis- 
- solve yourself into tears , and don't spare 
sighs j for that will give you ease. You have 
had a dangerous qualm ; but now there is no- 
thing to fear , since you shed abundance of 
tears. Your grief will abate by little and lit tie, 
and you will soon accustom yourself to live 
with our gentlemen, who are men of honour. 
You will be treated like a princess , meet 
-with nothing but complaisance , and fresh 
proofs of affection every day. There are a 
great many women who would be glad to be 
in your place. » 

I did not give Leonarda time to proceed ; 
but entering, flapped a pistol to her breast , 
and with a threatening look , commanded her 
to surrender the key of the grate. She was 
confounded at my behaviour; and, though al- 
most at the end of her career , so much atta- 
ched to life , that she durst not refuse my de- 
mand. Having got the key in my possession , 



( i3 7 ) 
I addressed myself to the afflicted lady , say- 
ing , « Madam , Heaven has sent you a de- 
liverer ; rise , and follow me , and I will 
conduct yon withersoever you shall please to 
direct. » The lady did not remain deaf to my 
words ; which made such an impression on 
her , that summoning up all the strength she 
had left , she got up , and ihrowingt herself at 
my feet, conjured me to preserve her honour. 
I raised her , and assured her that she might 
rely npon me : then taking some cords which 
I perceived in the kitchen , with her assis- 
tance , 1 tied Leonarda to the feet of a large 
table, swearing that , if she opened her mouth, 
I would kill her on the spot. I afterwards 
lighted a flambeau , and going with the Lady 
into the room where the gold and silver 
was deposited , filled my pockets with pisto- 
les and double pistoles ; and to , induce the lady 
to follow my example , assured her, that she 
only took back her own. When we had made 
a good provision of this kind , we went to- 
wards the stable , which I entered alone with 
my pistols cocked , firmly persuaded that the 
old negro , in spite of his gout and rheuma- 
tism , would not suffer me to saddle and bri- 
dle my horse in quiet ; and fully resolved to 
cure him off all his distempers , if he should 
take it into his head to be troublesome : but 
by good luck , he was so overwhelmed with 
the pains he had undergone , and those he still 
suffered , that I brought my horse out of the 



(.138 ) 
stable , even without his seeming to perceive 
it ; and the lady waiting for me at the door , 
we proceeded , with all dispatch , through 
the passage that led out uf the cavern ; arri- 
ved at the grate , which we opened ; and at 
last came to the trap-door , which we lifted 
up with great difficulty; or rather , the desire 
of escaping lent us new strenght , without 
which we should not have been able to suc- 
ceed. 

Day^began to appear just as we found our- 
selves delivered from the jaws of this abyss ; 
and as we fervently desired to be at a greater 
distance from it , I threw myself into the sad- 
dle , the lady mounting behind me , and follo- 
wing the first path that presented itself, at a 
round gallop , got out of the forest in a short 
time , and entered a plain , divided by several 
roads, one of which we took at random. I was 
mortally afraid that it would conduct us to 
Mansilla , where we might meet with Rolan- 
do and his confederates j but happily my fear 
was vain. We arrived at the town of Astorge , 
at two o'clock in the afternoon , where peo- 
ple gazed at us with extreme attention > as if 
it had been an extraordinary thing to see a 
woman on horseback , sitting behind a man. 
We alighted at the first inn we came to , 
where the first thing I did , was to order a 
partridge and a young rabbit to the fire ; and 
while this was doing , I conducted the lady 
into a chamber , where we began to converse 



( i3 9 ) 
with one another j for we had rode so fast , 
thdt we had no discourse upon the road. She- 
shewed how sensible she was of the service 
I had done her ; and observed , that after I 
had performed such a generous action , she 
could not persuade herself that I was a com- 
panion of the thieves from whom I had res- 
cued her, I told her my story , in order to con- 
firm the good opinion she had conceived of 
me j and , by that means , engaged her to ho- 
nour me with her confidence , and inform me 
of her misfortunes , which she recounted , as 
I shall relate in the following chapter. 

Smollett* 

U is to ire de la dame Mencia, 

« I was born at Valladolid , and my name 
is Donna Mencia of Mosquera. Don Martin, 
my father , after having spent almost his 
whole patrimony in the service of his king, 
was killed in Portugal , at the head of his 
own regiment , and left me so moderately 
provided , that though I was an only child , I 
was far from being an advantageous match. I 
did not want admirers , however, in spite of 
the lowness of my fortune ; a good many of 
the most considerable cavaliers in Spain paid 
their addresses to me : but he who attracted 
my attention most, was Don Alvaro Mello;. 
he was > indeed , more handsome than any 



( Mo ) 

of his rivals ; but more substantial qualifica- 
tions determined me in his favour ; he was 
endued with wit , prudence , probity , and va- 
lour , and withal the most gallant man in the 
world. When he gave entertainments , no- 
thing could be more elegant ; and when he ap- 
peared at tournaments , every body admired 
his vigour and address : I preferred him , 
therefore , to all others , and married him 
accordingly. 

» A few days after our marriage , he hap- 
pened to meet with Don Andrea de Baesa , 
who had been one of his rivals , in private 
place ; where quarrelling with each other , 
they came to blows, and Don Andrea lost 
his life in. the rencounter. As he was nephew 
to the corregidor of Yalladolid , a violent 
man , and mortal enemy to the family of 
Mello, Don Alvaro knew he could not leave 
the city too soon : he returned home in a hur- 
ry; and, while they saddled his horse, told 
me what had happened. " My dear Mencia , ,, 
said he , we must part! you know the corre- 
gidor ; don't let us then flatter courselves , for 
he will prosecute me with the utmost ran- 
cour ; and as you are not ignorant of his cre- 
dit , you know I cannot be safe in this king- 
dom. ,, a He was so much penetraded with his 
own sorrow , and with that which he saw 
take possession of my breast , that he could 
say no more ; and when I had prevailed upon 
him to furnish himself with some money and 



( Hi ) 

jewels , he clasped me in his arms , and du- 
ring a whole quarter of an hour we did no- 
thing but mingle our sighs and tears. At last, 
being tojd the horse was ready, he tore him- 
self from me ; he departed , and left me in a 
condition not to be described. Happy ! had 
the excess of my affliction, at that time , put 
and end to my life ! what troubles and sor- 
rows would my death have prevented ! Some 
hours after Don Alvaro was gone , the corre- 
gidor being informed of his flight , orderet 
him to be pursued ; and spared nothing to 
have him in his power : bnt my husband al- 
ways baffled the pursuit , and kept himself se- 
cure, in such a manner, that he judge found 
himself obliged to limit his revenge to the sole 
satisfaction of ruining the fortune of a man 
whose blood he wanted to shed : his efforts 
were not unsuccessful , ail the effects of Don 
Alvaro being confiscated. 

„ Left in a most afflicting situation , and 
having scarce wherewithal to subsist , I be- 
gan to live a very solitary life , all my atten- 
dants being reduced to one servant maid : I 
spent the day in bemoaning — not an indi- 
gence , which I could have borne with pati- 
ence — but the absence of my dear husband 5 
whose condition I was utterly ignorant of, al- 
though he had promitted , in his last melan- 
choly adieu , that he would take care to in- 
form me of his lot , into whatever part of 
the world his cruel fate should conduct him. 



( H2 ) 

Nevertheless , seven long years elapsed , w': 
thout my hearing the least account of him ; 
and this uncertainty of his destiny plunged 
me into an abyss of sorrow. At last I was 
told that , in nghtingt for the King of Por- 
tugal in Fez , he had lost his life in battle : a 
man lately returned from Africk confirmed 
this report , assuring me , that he was per- 
fectly well acquainted wih Don Alvaro de 
Melio , had served with him in the Portu- 
guese army , and even saw him fall in the 
action : to this he added many other circums- 
tances , which persuaded me that my husband 
was no more, 

„ At that time , Don Ambrosio Mesia Ca- 
rillo , Marquis of Guardia , came to Valla- 
dolid : he was one of those old lords who , 
by the politeness and galantry of their man- 
ners , make people forget their age , and con- 
tinue still agreeable to the ladies. One day , 
hearing by accident the story of Don Alvaro , 
and being desirous of seeing me , on account 
of the picture wich had been drawn of me , 
for the satisfaction of his curiosity , he enga- 
ged one of my relations 9 who invited me to 
her house. Seeing me there , I had the for- 
tune to please him , in spite of the remarkable 
impression which grief had made on my coun- 
tenance. But why do I say , in spite of it ? 
Derhaps he was touched alone by my sad and 
languishing air , which prepossessed him in 
favour of my fidelity j his love 1 in all pro- 



( i43 ) 

babiiity, was the effect of my melancholy J 
for he told me more than once , that he re- 
garded me as a miracle of constancy ; and 
that , for this reason , he even envied the fate 
of my husband , how deplorable soever it was 
in other respects : in a word , he was struck 
at first sight of me , and had no occasion to 
see me a second time , in order to take the 
resolution of making me his wife. 

,, He chose the intercession of my kinswo- 
man, towards obtaining my consent she came 
to my lodgings accordingly , and represented 
tome, that my husband having ended his days 
in the kingdom of Fez , as we had been in- 
formed , it was not reasonable that I should 
bury my charms any longer ; that I had suf- 
ficiently bewailed the fate of a man with 
whom I had been united but a few moments; 
and that I ought to profit by the occasion that 
now presented itself; by which means I should 
be the happiest woman in the world. She then 
extolled the great family of the old Marquis 9 
his vast estate , and unblemished character : 
but her eloquence in displaying the advantages 
he possessed was in vain ; it was not in her 
power to persuade me : not that I doubted the 
death of Don Alvaro , or was restrained by 
the fear of seeing him again , when I should 
least expect him ; the little inclination , or 
rather the reluctance , I felt for a second mar- 
riage , after having suffered so many infor- 
tunes by my first 3 was the ouly obstacle my 



( H4 ) 

relation had to remove. She did not despair 
for all that ; on te contrary , it redoubled her 
zeal for Don Ambrosio , she engaged my 
whole family in the interest of that lord - y my 
relations pressed me to accept of such an ad- 
vantageous match ; I was every moment be- 
sieged , importuned , and tormented ; and my 
misery , which dailhy encreased , contributed 
not a little to overcome my resistance. 

,, Being unable , therefore , to hold out any 
longer, I yielded to their pressing instances , 
and married the Marquis of Guardia ; who , 
the day after our nuptials , carried me to a 
very fine castle which he had situated near 
Burgos , between Grajal and Rodillas. He 
conceived the most violent passion for me , 
and I observed , in the whole of his beha- 
viour , the utmost desire of pleasing me. His 
sole study, was to anticipate my wishes : no 
hudsband had ever such a tender regard for 
his wife : and no lover ever shewed more 
complaisance to his mistress. I should have 
been passionately fond of Don Ambrosio , 
notwithstanding the disproportion of our 
years , had I been capable of loving any one 
after Don Alvaro j but a constant heart can 
never change. The endeavours of my second 
husband to please me were rendered ineffec- 
tual by the remembrance of my first; so that 
I could only requite his tenderness with pure 
sentiments of gratitude. 

? , I was in this disposition , when , one 

day , 



( U$ j 

viay , taking the air at the window of m y 
appartment , I perceived in the garden a kind 
of peasant who earnestly looked at me : thirt- 
king he was the gardener's servant , I took 
no notice of him ; but next day being again 
at the window, I saw him in the same place, 
and he seemed to view me with uncommon 
attention : struck with this circumstance , I 
looked at him in my turn , and after having 
some time considered him , thought I reco- 
gnized the features of the unfortunate Don 
Alvaro, This apparition raised an inconcei- 
vable tumult within me ; I shrieked aloud > 
but luckily there was nobody present , except 
Inez, who , of all my servants , enjoyed the 
greatest share of rny confidence. When I im- 
parted to her the suspicion that alarmed me , 
she laughed at my apprehension , believing 
that my eyes were imposed upon by some 
slight resemblance. " Recollect yourself, Ma- 
dam , ,, said she , u and don't imagine you 
have seen your former husband : what likeli- 
hood is there , that he should be here in the 
dress of a peasant I or , indeed , what pro- 
bability is there of his being alive I I will go 
down into the garden, ,, added she , " and 
talk to this countryman 5 and when I have 
learned who he is , come back , and let you 
know. ,, Inez accordingly went into the gar- 
den , and soon after returned to my apart- 
ment in great emotion , saying , " Madam f 
vour suspicion is but too just ! it is Don Al- 

G 



( H6 ) 

varo himself whom you have seen ! he has 
discovered himself , and demands a secret 
interview. ,, 

9 , As I had , at that very time , an oppor- 
tunity of receiving Don Alvaro , the Marquis 
being at Burgos , I ordered my maid to bring 
him into my closet , by a private stair-case. 
You may well think that I was in a terrible 
agitation, and altogether unable to support 
the presence of a man who had a right to 
load me with reproaches. As soon as he ap- 
peared , I fainted away. Inez and he flew to 
my assistance ; and when they had brought 
me out of my swoon , Don Alvaro said , 
" Madam , for Heaven's sacke , compose your- 
self ; let not my presence be a punishment to 
you j I have no intention to give you the least 
pain. I come not as a furious husband, to call 
you to an account of your plighted truth , and 
upbraid you with the second engagement you 
have contracted. I know very well that it 
was the work of your relations ; I am ac- 
quainted with all the persecutions you have 
suffered on that score : beside , the report of 
my death was spread all over Valladolid, 
and you had the more reason to believe it 
true 9 as no letter from me assured you of the 
contrary : in short , I know in what manner 
you have lived since our cruel separation , 
and that necessity , rather than love , has 
thrown you into the arms of — „ " Ah , Sir ! „ 
cried T } interrupting him , " why will you 



( H7 ) 
excuse jour unhappy wife ! She is criminal . 
since you life ! Why am I not still in that 
miserable situation in which I lived , before 
I gave my hand to Don Ambrosio I Fatal 
nuptials ! I should then , at least , have had 
the consolation in my misery , to see you 
again without a blush. ,, 

" My dear Mencia ! „ replied Don Alvaro ? 
w T ith a look that testified how much he was 
affected by my tears , " I do not complain ; 
and far from reproaching you with the splen~ 
did condition in which I find you , by all my 
hopes , I thank Heaven for it ! Since the me- 
lancholy day of my departure from Vallado- 
lid , fate has been always adverse , and my 
life but a chain of misfortunes ; and , to crowii 
my misery , it was never in my power to let 
you hear from me ! Too confident of your 
love , I incessantly repsesented to myself the 
condition to which my fatal tenderness had 
reduced you. My imagination painted Donna, 
Mencia in tears! you was the greatest of all 
my misfortunes j and sometimes , I must con- 
fess , I have looked upon myself as a criminal , 
in having had the good fortune to please you : 
I have wished that your affection had inclined 
towards some one of my rivals , since the 
preference you gave to me had cost you sq 
dear. Nevertheless , after seven years of suffe- 
ring , more in love then ever , 1 was resolved 
to see you. I could not resist the desire 
H/ich ; at the end of a long slavery ^ having 

G 3 



( H* ) 

an opportunity to satisfy, I went , in this dis* 
guise , to Valladolid, at the hazard of my 
life : there being informed of every thing , I 
came hither, and found means to introduce 
myself into the family of the gardener , who 
has hired me to work under him. You see in 
what manner I have conducted myself to ob- 
tain this private interview; but do not ima- 
gine that my design is to disturb the felicity 
you enjoy, by remaining in this place. No i 
I love you more than myself ; I have the 
utmost regard for your repose ; and now that 
I have had the melancholy satisfaction of con- 
versing with you , will go , and finish at a 
distance , that miserable life , which I sacrifice 
to your quiet. » 

« No, Don Alvaro ! no ! » cried I at these 
words j I will not suffer you to leave me a 
second time ! I wil go along with you , and 
death alone shall divide us ! » «, Take my 
advice, » said he , « and live with Don Am- 
brosio ; do not associate yourself with my 
misfortunes , but leave me alone to support 
the weight of them. » He said other things to 
the same purpose : but the more he seemed 
willing to sacrifice himself to my happiness , 
I felt myself the less disposed to consent to 
it : and when he saw me firmly resolved to 
follow^ him , he changed his tone all of a sud- 
den , and assuming a more serene air , said , 
4 Madam , since you have still so much love 
for Don Alvaro , as to prefer his misery to 



( 149 ) 
the prosperity you now enjoy , let us go and 
live at Betancos , at the farther end of the 
kingdom of Galiicia , where 1 have a secret 
retreat. Although my misfortunes have ruined 
my estate , they have not yet deprived me of 
friends 5 I have still some faithsul ones remai- 
ning, who have put me in condition to carry 
you off: by their assistance , I have provided 
a coach at Zamora , bought mules and horses , 
and am accompanied by three resolute Galli- 
cians , armed with carbines and pistols , who 
now wait for my orders at the village of Ro- 
dillas. Let us therefore , » added he , « take 
the advantage of Don Ambrosio's absence : 
I will order the coach to come to the castle- 
gate , and we will set out instantly* » « I con- 
sented ; Don Alvaro flew to fiodillas , and 
returned in a short time, with his three atten- 
dants , to carry me off from the midst of my 
Women ; who , not knowing what to think 
of this event , ran all away in the utmost con- 
sternation. Inez alone was privy to it , but re- 
fused to attach herself to my fortuness , because 
she was in love with the valet de chambre of 
Don Ambrosio. 

« I got into the coach with Don Alvaro , 
carrying nothing with me but my own cloaths, 
and some jewels I had before my second mar- 
riage ; for I would take nothing that the Mar- 
quis had given me on that occasion. We took 
the road to Galiicia , without knowing if we 
§hould be so happy as to reach it $ having 

G 5 



( i5o ) 
reason to fear that Don Ambrosio , at his re- 
turn , would pursue us with a great number 
of people , and overtake us. Nevertheless , we 
continued our journey two days , without 
seeing one horseman behind us ; and , in hopes 
that the third would pass in the same manner , 
were conversing with each other in great tran- 
quillity. Don Alvaro had just recounted the 
melancholy adventure which had given rise 
to the report of his death ; and how , after 
having been a slave Rve years , he had reco- 
vered his liberty ; when yesterday , on the 
road to Leon,we met those thieves with whom 
you were in company. He is the person whom 
they murdered , with all his attendants , and 
for whom these my tears are shed. 

Smollett. 

De quelle maniere desagreable fat inter* 
rompue la conversation de Gil Bias avec 
la Dame. 

Doimna Mencia having ended her relation 9 
shed a torrent of tears : while I , letting her 
give a free vent to her sighs , w r ept also ; so 
natural is it to interest one's self for the unfor- 
tunate j especially for a fine lady in distress. 
I was going to ask what she intended to do 
in the present conjuncture ; and perhaps she 
was about to consult me on the same subject ; 
when our conversation was interrupted by a 
great noise in the inn 9 which 3 in spite of us , 



{ isi.-y 

attracted our .attention. This noise was occa» 
sioned by the arrival of the corregidor , fol- 
lowed by two alguazils ( j)and a guard , who^ 
without any ceremony , entered the room 
where we were. A gentleman who accompa- 
nied them , approached me first , and exami- 
ning my dress , had no occasion to hesitate 
long , but cried , « By St. Jago I this is my 
individual doublet; as easy to be known again 
as my horse. You may apprehend this gallant 
on my testimony ; he is one of the thieves who 
have an unknown retreat somewhere in this 
country. » 

At this discourse , by which I understood 
he was the gentleman who had been robbed , 
and whose spoils I was unluckily in possession 
of , I was suprized , confouded , and dis- 
mayed. The corregidor , whose office obliged 
him to put a bad construction on my disorder, 
rather than interpret it favorably, concluded 
that I .was not accused without reason ; and 
presuming that the lady might be an ; accom- 
plice , ordered us to be imprisoned separately. 
This judge, far from being one of those who 
assume a stern countenance , was all softness 
and smiles ; but God knows if he was a bit 
the better for that ; for I was no sooner com- 
mitted , than he came into the jail with his 
two terriers , ( I mean the alguazils , ) who , 
not fovgetting their laudable custom, began 

(i) Alguazils are attendants of justice , whose ofEce 
resembles that of our bailiffs, 

G4 



( *5d ) 

to rummage me in a moment. What a glo- 
rious windfall was this for those honest gent- 
lemen ! I do not believe that ever they got 
such a booty before : at every handful of pis- 
toles they pulled out , I saw their eye^ sparkle 
wi'h joy ; the corregidor , in particular, was 
transported : « Child, » said he , with a voice 
full of meekness y « we must do our duty ; 
but be not afraid : if thou art innocent t thou 
shall sustain no harm. » In the mean time 9 
with all their gentleness f they emptied my 
pockets , and even robbed me of that which 
the thieves had respected ; I mean my uncle's 
forty ducats : their greedy and indefatigable 
hands searched me from head to foot ; they 
turned me about on all sides ; and even strip- 
ped me , tho see if I had any money between 
my shirt and my skin. Wen they had dexte- 
rously acquitted themselves in this manner 9 
I was interrogated by the corregidor , to 
whom I ingenuously recounted every thing 
that had happened to me. He ordered my de- 
position to be taken in writing , and then 
went avay with his attendants and my 
coin y leaving me entirely naked among ths 
straw* 

« O life ! » cried I , when I found myself 
alone in this condition, « how full of capri- 
cious accidents and disappointments art thou ! 
Since I left Oviedo, I have met with nothing 
but misfortunes ! Scarce had I got out of one 
danger , when I fell into another ! and when 



( i5».) 

I came into this town , I was far from thin- 
king that I should so soon become acquainted 
with the corregidor. » While 1 made these 
vain reflections ,1 put on again the cursed 
doublet , and the rest of the dress which my 
evil genius had lent me ; then exhorting my- 
self to take courage. « Come , Gil Bias , » said 
I to myself, « display thy fortitude : it will 
ill become thee to despair in an ordinary 
prison , after having put thy patience to such 
a severe trial in the subterranean abvss. But 
alas ! « added I in a sorrowful tone , I abuse 
myself \ how shall I escape from hence when 
I am utterly deprived of the means \ » In 
effect , I had too much reason to say so ; for 
a prisoner without money is like a bird whose 
wings are clipped. 

Instead of the partridge and rabbit I had 
bespoke , they brought me a little brown 
bread and a pitcher of water , and left me 
to fret at leisure in a dungeon ; where I re- 
mained fifteen whole days , without seeing a 
human creature 5 except the turnkey, who 
came every morning to renew my provision. 
As often as I saw him , I endeavoured to speak 
to and enter into conversation with him , in 
order to divert me a little; but this venerable 
person made no answer to what I said ; I 
could not extract one word from him ; nay , 
for the most part , he came in and went out 
without so much as deigning me a look. On 
the sixteenth day* tke corregidor coming in p 

G 5 



( i54) 

said , « Thou mayest now give # loose to 
joy. I bring thee agreable tidings. I have or- 
dered the lady who was along with thee to 
be conducted to Burgos. I examined her be- 
fore her ^departure , and her answers have 
exculpated thee. Thou shalt be enlarged this 
very day , provided that the muleteer, whilh 
whom ( as thou sayest ) tqou earnest from 
Penuaflor to Cacabelos , confirms thy depo- 
sition. He is now in Astorga , and I have sent 
for him ; and if he agrees with thee in the 
adventure of the rack , I will instantly set 
the free. » 

These words gave me infinite joy ; I looked 
upon myself as already acquitted ; I thanked 
the judge for his just and expeditious deci- 
sion ; and had not yet quite finished my com- 
pliment, when the carrier, conducted by two 
soldiers, arrived. I remembered his face im- 
mediately ; but he having , without doubt 7 
sjld my portmanteau , and all that was in it, 
was afraid of being obliged to restore the mo- 
ney he had received for it , if he should own 
that he knew me 5 and therefore affirmed y 
with astonishing assurance , that so far from 
knowing me, he had never seen me before, 
« Ah , traitor ! » cried I , « rather confess that 
thou hast sold my goods, and bear witness 
to the truth. Look at me again. I am one of 
the young people whom you threatened with 
the torture at the borough of Cacabelos , and 
frightened very much. » The carrier answered 



( i$5 ) 

coldly , that I talked of an affair of which he 
was utterly ignorant; and , as he maintained 
to the last , that I was unknown to him , my 
enlargement was deferred till another time ; 
so that I was obliged to arm myself with pa- 
tience anew , and resolved to regale myself 
still with my bread and water , and a sight 
of the silent turnkey. The thoughts of being 
unable to free myself from the claws of jus- 
tico , although I was not guilty of the least 
crime , threw me into despair. I wished my- 
self again in the cavern, « where, in the 
main, » said I to myself, I was less disa- 
greeably situated than in this dungeon. There 
I ate and drank in plenty, conversed with the 
robbers , and lived in the sweet hope of ma- 
king my escape ; instead of which, notwith- 
standing my innocence, I shall, perhaps, think 
myself happily quit , to get out of this place 
in order to be sent to the gallies. » 

Smollett. 

Comment Gil Bias sortit de la prison. 

While I passed my days in entertaining 
myself with these reflections , my adventu- 
res, such as appeared in my deposition, spread 
all over the town j upon which many people , 
being curious to see me , came and presented 
themselves one after another, at a small chink, 
through which the light was conveyed into 
my prison $ and afier having observed me for 

G6 



( i56 ) 
some time , went away. I was surprized a* 
this novelty; for since the day of my impri- 
sonment , I had not before seen a living soul 
at that window , which served to enlighten 
a court where horror reigned m silence. Gues- 
sing from this , that I made some noise in 
town , I did not know whether to interpret 
it as a good or bad omen. 

One of the first that offered themselves to 
my view , wss the little ballad-singer of Ma. 
donedo , who , having been equally afraid of 
the torture , had fled as welt as I. I knew him 
again immediately ; and , as he did not pretend 
to have forgot me, we saluted one another j 
and falling into a long conversation , I was 
obliged to repeat my adventures anew. For 
his part , he informed me of what had hap- 
pened at the inn of Cacabeios , between the 
carrier and the new-married wife , after we 
had been driven away by a panic : hi aword' 9 
he acquainted me with the wl ole of what 1 
have already rehearsed on that subject. Af- 
terwards , taking leave of me for the present,, 
he promised , without loss ol time , to labour 
for my deliverance : and every body who 
came (as lie did) through curiosity , seemed 
affected with my misfortune , and even assu- 
red me, that they would join the little ballad- 
singer , and do all that lay in their power to 
procure my enlargement. 

Thev kept their promise effectually , and 
spoke in my behalf to the corrigidor ? . who 



( x5 7 ) 

afio longer doubting my innocence , especially 
when the ballad-singer had told him what he 
knew of the matter , at the end ol three weeks 
came into the prison ; and said, « Gil Bias, 
I dou't chuse to protract things : go, thou art 
free , and mayest quit the prison when thou 
wilt. Bus tell rne , » pursued he , « if thoa 
shouldst be brought to the wood in which the 
subterranean retreat is, couldst thou not find 
it out T » « No Sir , » I replied ; «, for as I 
'went in at night , and came out before day, 
it would be impossible for me to fix upon the 
spot. » Upon this the judge withdrew ; telling 
me that he was going to order the turnkey 
to set the prison doors open for me. In effect , 
the gaoler came into my dungeon a moment 
after , with one of his men carrying a bundle 
of clothes ; and stripping me ( with a grave 
and silent air ) of my doublet and breeches 9 
which were made of fine cloth , and almost 
new , they put me on a shabby footman's 
frock , and pushed me out by the shoulders* 

The joy that prisoners commonly feel iti 
recovering their liberty , was moderated by 
my confusion in seeing myself so poorly equip- 
ped ; anil I was tempted to leave the town 
instantly, that I might withdraw myself from 
the eyes of the people , whose looks I could 
scarce endure : but my gratitude got the better 
of my shame ; I went to thank the ballad- 
singer , to whom I was so much obliged $ audi 
jbe ce*)kl uQt help laughing, when ha saw me* 



( i5S ) 

c< What a strange figure you are ! » said he r 
& Justice , I see , has been done you in all her 
forms. » I do not complain of justice , » I 
replied, «she is most equitable : I wish only 
that all her officers were honest men. They 
ought at least to have spared my cloaths , 
which I think I paid for pretty handsomely. » 
« I think so too , » said he ; « but they will 
tell you , these are formalities which must be 
observed. What ! do you think ( for exam- 
ple ) that your horse has been restored to the 
right owner I not at all ; I assure you , he is 
now actually in the stable of the townclerk , 
where he has been deposited as a proof of the 
robbery ; and I don't believe the poor gent- 
leman wil ever retrieve so much as the crup- 
per. But let us shift our discourse , » conti- 
nued he. « What is your design I what sche- 
me do you intend to prosecute at present ? » 
« I want to go to Burgos , » said I , « in 
order to find out the lady I delivered , who 
will give me a few pistoles , with which I 
will purchase a new cassock , and repair to 
Salamanca , where I will endeavour to make 
my Latin turn to some advantage. All I am 
concerned at is , that I am at some distance 
from Burgos , and shall want subsistence on 
the road » « I understand you , » he replied, 
« Here is my purse ; 'tis , indeed , a little low j 
but a ballad-singer ? you know, is not a bis- 
hop. » At the same time he slipped into my 
Jiand so cbearfully , that I could not for my 



. ( l5 9 > . 
soul refuse the offer, such as it was. J thanked 
him as much as if he had given me all the 
gold in Peru , and made a thousand profes- 
sions of service , which I never had an oppor- 
tunity to perform. Then , bidding him fare- 
well 9 I left the town, without having visited 
those other persons who had contributed to 
my enlargement ; contenting myself with be- 
stowing on them in my thoughts a thousand 
benedictions. 

The little ballad-singer w~as in the right to 
speak modestly of his purse, in which I found 
very little money : but happily for me , I 
had been used ten months to a very frugal 
diet : and I had still some rials left , when I 
arrived at the borough of Ponte de Mula , 
which is but a little way from Burgos. Here 
I halted to enquire about Donna Mencia , and 
going into an inn , the mistress of which was 
a little , lean, fierce , insolent creature, I per- 
ceived at once, by the disdainful look she dar- 
ted at me , that my frock was not at all to 
her liking ; a disgust which I forgave with all 
my heart. I sat down at table : where I ais 
some bread and cheese, and swallowed a few 
draughts of execrable wine , which they 
brought for me ; and during this repast, which 
was very well suited to my dress , I wanted 
to enter into conversation with my landlady. 
II begged her to tell me if she knew the Mar- 
quis of Guardia ; if his castle was far from 
the boroug ; and ? in particular 9 if she had 



( i6o ) 
heard what had become of the Marchioness 
his lady. u You ask a great many questions , „ 
replied sbe with a scornful look. She told me, 
however ( though with a very bad grace , ) y 
that the castle of Don Ambrosio was but a 
short leage from Ponte de Mula. 

When I had done eating and drinking , 
( it being by this time pretty late, ) I expressed 
a desire of going to rest , and bade them shew 
me into a bed-chamber. « A bed-chamber for 
you ! » said the landlady, darting at me a look 
full of haugtiness and contempt; « I have no 
bed-chambers for people who sup on a morsel 
of cheese. All m'y beds are bespoke. I expect 
gentlemem of importance to lodge here to- 
night ; so that all I can do for you is , to quar- 
ter you in the barn ; audit wont't , I suppose > 
be the first time you have slept upon straw. » 
She did not know how true she spoke : but I 
made no reply , and very wisely condescen- 
ded to sneak into the straw J where , in a 
very short time , I slept like one who had 
suffered much fatigue. Smollett. 

Reception que Jit a Burgos la dame Mencia* 

I did not lie a-bed like a sluggard next mor- 
ning , but went to reckon with my landlady ^ 
who seemed less proud and snappish than she 
had been the night before \ a change that I 
ascribed to the presence of three honest sol- 
diers belonging tho the holy brotherhood ,,wh# 



( i& ) 
€onwersed with her in a very familiar man- 
ner. They had lodged all night at the inn ; 
and it was , doubtless , for these gentlemen 
of importance that all the beds had been 
bespocke, , 

Enquiring in the borough , the way to the 
castle whither I wanted to go , I addressed 
myself by accident to a man of the character 
of my landlord at Pennaflor ; not contented 
with answering the question I asked , he let 
me know that Don Ambrosio was dead three 
weeks ago , and that the Marchioness , his lady , 
had retired into a convent at Burgos , which 
he named. I repaired immediately tho that city, 
instead of following the road to the castle , as 
I formerly intented ; and flying directly to 
the convent where she was , begged the fa- 
vour of the portress to tell her , that a young 
man , just released from the gaol of Astorga 9 
desired to speak with her. The nun went im- 
mediately to do what I desired , and retur- 
ning ; introduced me into a parlour , where I 
had not been long , when I saw the widow 
of Don Ambrosio appear at the grate in deep 
mourning. 

» You are welcome , said the lady to me , 
« Four days ago I wrote to a person at Astor- 
ga , desiring him to go to you from me , and 
tell you that I shonld be glad to see you , as 
soon as you should be released; and I did not 
doubt of your being enlarged in a very little 
lime j what I said to the corregidor in your 



( 162 ) 

behalf having been sufficient for that purpose. 
In answer to this he wrote , that you had re- 
covered your liberty ; that nobody knew 
whiter you was gone j so that I was afraid I 
should never see you again , and consequently 
be deprived of the pleasure of manifesting my 
gratitude. Don't be ashamed , ,, added she , 
( observing my confusion , on account of ap- 
pearing before her iu such a miserable dress ;) 
« let not your present condition give you the 
least uneasiness. After the important services 
you have done me , I should he the most un- 
grateful of all women , if I neglected to do 
something for you. I intend to extricate you 
out of the wretched situation in which you 
are ; it is my duty , and I am able to perform 
it ; the considerable wealth I am now mis- 
tress of , impowering me to acquit myself 
towards you , without incommoding myself. 
« You know , » continued she , « my ad- 
ventures to the day on which we were both 
imprisoned ; and I will tell you what has 
happened to me since. When the corregidor 
of Astorga had ordered me to be conducted 
to Burgos , after having heard from my mouth 
a faithful relation of my story , I repaired to 
Don Ambrosio's castle, w r here my return oc- 
casioned extreme surprize, though I was told 
it was too late j for the Marquis, thunder- 
struck at te news of my flight , had fallen ill , 
and the physicians despaired of his life. This 
was fresh cause for me to complain of tho 



( r63 ) 

rigour of my fate : nevertheless , having ad- 
vertised him of my arrival , I entered his 
chamber , and running to his bedside , threw 
myself on my knees , my face bathed in tears , 
and my heart oppressed wit the most afflic- 
ting grief ! '< What brings you hither I „ said 
he when he perceived me ; " are you come 
to contemplate your own work I Was it not 
sufficient for you to deprive me of live , but 
you must also have the satisfaction of being 
an eyewitness of my death I ,, " No , my 
lord , ,, I replied. " Inez must have told you, 
that I fled with my husband ; and had it net 
been for the dismal accident which has rob- 
bed me of him , you never should have seen 
me again ! „ At the same time I let him know , 
that Don Alvaro had been murdered by rob- 
bers , who afterwards carried me into their 
subterranean retreat : and , in short , infor- 
med him of all that had happened. When I 
had done speaking , Don Ambrosio stretched 
out his hand to me , saying , with the utmost 
tenderness , l< I am satisfied ; I will not com- 
plain : why should I reproach you I having 
found again a husband whom you dearly lo- 
ved , you abandoned me to follow his fortune : 
ought I to blame you for such a conduct I No ? 
Madam , I should have been in the wrong to 
murmur at it, therefore would not suffer you 
to be pursued : I revered the sacred rights of 
your ravisher, and even your inclination to- 
wards him. In flue ? I do you justice ; and by 



( i64) 

your return , you have retrieved all my ten- 
derness , Yes , my dear Mencia , your presence 
owerwhelms me with joy ! but, alas ! it will 
not last long. I feel my last hour approaching ! 
Scarce are you restored to my arms , when I 
must bid you an eternal adieu ! ,, At these af- 
fecting words my tears redoubled ; I felt and 
expressed an immoderate affliction ! I question 
if the death of Don Alvaro, whom I adored , 
had cost me more sighs ! Don Ambrosio's pre- 
sage of his own death was but too true : he 
expired next day ; and I remained mistress of 
a considerable estate , which he had settled 
upon me at our marriage. I intend to make 
no bad use of it. The world shall not see me 
(though I am still young ) throw myself into 
the arms of a third husband : for , besides that 
I think such conduct would be inconsistent 
with the virtue and delicacy of my sex , I own 
I have no longer any relish for the world j but 
design to end my days in this convent , and 
become a benefactress. ,, 

Such was the discourse of Donna Mencia ; 
who , taking out a purse from under her robe ? 
put it in my hand, saying, " Here are an 
hundred ducats , which I give you only to buy 
cloaths. Come and see me again , after you 
have equipped yourself; for I do not intend 
to confine my gratitude within such narrow 
bounds. ,, I gave the lady a thousand thanks; 
and swore I would not depart from Burgos 
without taking leave of her. After this oath , 



( i65) 

which, I had no intention to break , I went 
in quest of an inu , and going into the first I 
perceived , demanded a room , telling the 
landlord ( to prevent the bad opinion the migth 
conceive of me , from the shabby frock) that, 
notwithstanding me appearance , I was in a 
condition to pay handsomely for my lodging. 
At these words , the inn-kepper , whose name 
was Majuelo , naturally a great w r ag , sur- 
veying me from top to bottom , answered 
dryly , with a sarcastic sneer , there was no 
occasion for such an assurance to persuade him 
that I should spend like a prince in his house ; 
for he discovered something noble in me , by 
my dress ; and , in short , did not doubt that 
I was a gentleman of a very independent for- 
tune. I could easily perceive that the rascal 
rallied me , and , in order to put an end to his 
witticisms , shewed him my purse. I even 
counted my ducats on a table before him ; and 
observing tfiat my coin altered his opinion 
very much in my favour, desired he would 
recommend me to a taylor. u You had better,» 
said he, « send for a broker, who will bring 
along with him all kinds of apparel ready 
made , and fit you in a trice. ,, 1 approved of 
his advice , and resolved to follow it : but the 
day being near a close , deferred my purchase 
till next morning, and thought of nothing but 
making a good supper , to indemnise me for 
the sorry meals I had made since my delive- 
rance from the cavern. Smollet. 



'( iM ) 

ISouveaux presens de la Dame a Gil Bias . 
et son depart de Burgos* 

They brougt for my supper a huge fricas- 
see of sheep-trotters , which I picked to the 
bones ; and having drank in proportion , 
betook myself to rest. As I had the conve- 
nience of a good bed , I was in hopes of en- 
joying a sound sleep : but for all that could 
not close my eyes 9 my thoughts being engros- 
sed in determining upon the dress I was to 
chuse. " What must 1 do I ,, said I to myself, 
a prosecute my first design, buy a cassock , 
and go to Salamanca in quest of a tutor's 
place I But why should I take the habit of a 
licentiate I Am I ambitious of consecrating 
myself tho the church j or have I the least bias 
that way I No. I feel myself, on the contrasy , 
quite otherwise inclined : I will turn gentle- 
man , and endeavour to make my fortune in 
the world. ,, 

Having resolved upon this , I longed for 
day with the utmost impatience ; and no 
sooner perceived the glimpse of light , than I 
got up , and made so much noise in the inn , 
that I wakened all those who were asleep. 
I called the waiters , who were still a-bed , 
and who loaded me with curses by way of 
answer. They were obliged to rise , however ; 
for I gave them no quarter , until one of them 
had gone for a broker , who soon appeared , 



( 1 67 ) 
followed by two apprentices , carrying each 
a great green bag on his shoulders. He salu- 
ted me with great civility , saying , " Signior 
Cavalier; you are very happy in having ap- 
plied to me rather than to any other body. I 
don't chuse to disparage my brethren. God 
forbid that I should prejudice their reputation" 
ia the least ; but , betwen you and me, there 
is no conscience among them. They are all 
as abandoned as Jews. I am the only honest 
broker in town. I confine myself to a mode- 
rate profit ; being satisfied with a pound in 
the shilling — I mean a shilling in the pound. 
Thank Heaven ! I deal upon the square with 
all mankind. ,, 

The broker , after this preamble , wich I 
took for gospel , ordered his men to untie the 
buudles , and shewed me suits of all colours. 
Some which were of plain cloth I rejected 
with disdain , as being too mean ; but they 
made me try one which seemed to have been 
made exactly for my shape , and which struck 
my fancy , although somewhat worn. It 
consisted of a doublet with slashed sleeves , 
a pair of breeches , and a cloak ; the whole of 
blue velvet embroidered with gold. Fixing on 
this , I cheapened it ; and the broker, per- 
ceiving I was bent upon it, observed that I 
had an excellent taste. «, Odds bodikins ! » 
cried he , « one may see you know what you 
are about. I can tell you , that suit was made 
for one of the greatest lords in this kingdom , 



(;l68 ) 
who never had it three times on his hack, 
Examine the velvet , nothing can be finer j and 
as for the embroidery , you must confess the 
work is exquisite. » « What will you sell it 
for I » said I. He answered , « Sixty ducats : 
I am a rogue if I have not refused the money. » 
The alternative was plain. I offered five-and- 
forty, which might be'about double the value. 
« M r . What-d'ye-call-um, » replied the bro- 
ker , with an air of indifference , « I never 
exact too much ; I am always at a word. 
Here, » continued he , shewing me some of 
those I had refused , « buy this, I'll sell it a 
pennyworth. » This was only to excite my 
desire of purchasing that which I had cheape- 
ned j and accordingly imagining that he would 
not abate one farthing of his price , I counted 
into his hand the sixty ducats. When he saw 
me part with them so easily , I believe , in 
spite of his boasted honesty , he wished that 
he had asked a great deal more : pretty well 
satisfied, however , with having gained nine- 
teen shillings in the pound , he went away 
with his apprentices , whom I had not for- 
gotten. 

Having now a very handsome cloak , dou- 
blet , and breeches , I spent the rest of the 
morning in providing other necessaries. I 
bought a hat , silk stockings , shoos , linen , 
and a sword : after which 9 'having dressed , 
what infinite pleasure had I in beholding 
myself so well equipped ! My eyes (to use the 

expression ) 



( i6 9 ) 
expression) could not sufficiently glut them- 
selves with my attire Never peacock contem- 
plated his own feathers with more satisfac- 
tion. That very day I made my second visit 
to Donna Mencia , who still received me very 
kindly, and thanked me again for the service 
I had done her. On that score many compli- 
ments passed on both sides , after which , 
wishing me all happiness , she bade me fa- 
rewell , and retired , without giving me any 
thing but a ring worth thirty pistoles , which 
she desired me to keep in remembrance of 
her. 

I looked very blank with my ring , having 
laid my accouut with receivings much more 
considerable present , and trudged back to my 
lodgings in a brown study , little satisfied 
with the lady's generosity. But just as I ente- 
red the inn , a man , who had followed me 
all the way , came in likewise , and laying 
aside the cloak in which he was muffled up , 
discovered a great bag under his arm. At the 
apparition of this bag , which had all the air 
of being full of money , I , as well as some 
other people who were present , stared with 
our eyes wide open ; and I thought I heard 
the voice of an angel , when the man , laying 
the bag upon a table , pronounced , « Signior 
Gil Bias , here is something that my Lady 
Marchioness has sent you. » I made many 
profound bows to the bearer , whom I over- 
whelmed with civility ; and he was no sooner 

H 



( *7° 5 
gone , than I darted upon the bag like a hawk 
upon his prey y and carrying it to my riiatn- 
ber , untied it , without loss of*time, and 
found in it a thousand ducats. I had just made 
an end of counting them , whem my landlord , 
who had heard what the porter said , came 
in to see the contents of the bag. Thunder- 
struck at the sight ot my coin spread upou the 
table, « Zounds , » cried he, « what a vast 
sum of money is here I You must be a devil 
among the women, » added he , with a sati- 
rical smile ; « for although you have not been 
four and-twenty hours in Burgos , you have a 
marchioness already under contribution. » 

This discourse did not disgust me 5 I was 
tempted to leave Majuelo in his mistake , which 
already gave me a sensible pleasure; so that I 
do not wonder that young fellows love to be 
thought men of intrigue. My innocence, how- 
ever , got the better o my vanity ; I unde- 
ceived my landlord , and recounted the story of 
Donna Mencia , to which he listened with 
great attention. I then disclosed the state of 
my affairs ; and , as he seemed to interest 
himself in my behalf , begged the assistance 
of his advice. Having mused a while, « Si- 
gnior Gil Bias , » said he , « I have a regard 
for you ; and since you have confidence enough 
in me , to unbosom yourself in this manner , 
I will , without flattery , tell you what I 
think you are fittest for. As you seem designed 
by nature for the court , I advise you to go 



( »7' ) 

thither, and attach yourself to some grandee: 
but be sure either to meddle in his concerns , 
or enter into his pleasures ; otherwise you 
will lose your time. I know the great. They 
look upon the zeal and attachment of an honest 
man as nothing at all ; and miad only such as 
are necessary to them. » But you have another 
resource , » continuened he ; «you are young 
and handsome ; and these qualifications alone, 
without the least glimpse of understanding , 
are more than sufficient to captivate a rich 
widow, or some fine lady unhappily married: 
If love ruins gentlemen of fortune , it often 
maintains those who have none ; it is my ad- 
vice , therefore , that you go to Madrid : but 
you must by no means appear without atten- 
dants : they judge there , as in other places * 
by appearance ; and you will be considered 
only in proportion to the figure you make. I 
will recommend a servant to you — a faithful 
domestic — a prudent, sober fellow — in on© 
word, a man of my own making. Purchase 
a couple of mules , one for yourself, and ano- 
ther for him , and set out as soon as possible* 
This advice was too much to my own taste 
to be neglected . I therefore next morning 
bought two handsome mules , and hired the 
servant he had recommended : he was a fellow 
thirty years old , of a simple , religious as- 
pect , born ( as he said ) in the kingdom of 
Gallicia; his name was Ambrose de Lamela : 
far from being selfish 9 like other servants % 

H2 



( 17^ ) 
he made no words about his wages , but as- 
sured me he would be contented with what in 
my goodness I should think proper to bestow. 
Having provided myself likewise with boots , 
and a portmanteau to hold my linen and cash , 
I cleared with my landlord , and early next 
morning set out from Burgos , on my way to 
Madrid. Smollett. 

Description de Botany Bay. 

Botany Bay , so called by Captain Cook , 
who discovered it , from the great number 
of plants collected at this place , is situated on 
the eastern coast of New Holland, denomi- 
nated , by that celebrated navigator , New 
South Wales. 

The climate is undoubtedly very desirable 
to live in. In summer the heats are usually 
moderated by the sea breeze , which set in 
early ; and winter the degree of cold is so 
slight , as to occasion no inconvenience. 

The soil here is either swamp or light 
sand, and the whole face of the country is 
finely diversified by wood and lawn. The 
trees are all strait and without underwood, 
standing at such a distance from each other , 
that the whole country , at least where the 
swamps do not render it incapable of culti- 
vation , might be cultivated without cutting 
down one of them. Between the trees the 
ground is covered with grass , of which there 



( »73) 

is great abundance , growing in tufts as large 
as can well be grasped in the hand , which 
stand very close to each other. In those places 
where trees are scarce , a variety of flowe- 
ring shrubs abound , most of them entirely 
new to an European , and surpassing in 
beauty, fragrance and number, all ever seen 
in an uncultivated state. Among these a tall 
shrub bearing an elegant white flower, which 
smells like English may , is particularly deli- 
ghtful , and perfumes the air around to a great 
distance. 

Some of our people , in the late expedition , 
went up the country a considerable distance; 
and found the soil to be much richer than that 
as above described by Captain Cook ; for 9 
instead of sand , they found a deep black 
mould , which seemed very fit for the pro- 
duction of grain of any kind. The trees -were 
not of many species. Among others , there 
was a large one which yielded a gum not 
unlike that called dragon's blood. In the 
woods was found a tree which bore fruit , 
that , in colour and shape , resembled a cherry: 
the juice had an agreeable tartness 9 though 
but little flavour. Here are interspersed some 
of the finest meadows in the world : some 
places are rocky , but these comparatively 
few. 

Here are only two kinds of trees which 
may be considered as timber. These are as 
large as the English oak 5 and one of them 

H'5 



( i74 ) 

has not a very different appearance ; this is 
the same that yields the reddish gum , like 
sanguis draconis ; and the wood is heavy , 
hard , and dark coloured , like lignum vitce. 
The other grows tall and strait , something 
like the pine ; and the wood of this , which 
has some resemblance to the live oak of 
America , is hard and heavy. There are a 
few shrubs , and several kinds of palm. 
Mangroves abound towards the head of the 
bay. 

An officer belonging to Captain Cook , had 
the good fortune to kill with his gun , an 
animal , called by the natives kanguroo. It 
weighed only thirty-eight pounds , but some 
of them weigh not les than one hundred and 
fifty pounds. In running , this animal con- 
fines himself entirely to his hinder legs, which 
are possessed with an extraordinary muscular 
power. Their speed is very great, though 
not in general quite equal to that of a grey- 
hound : but when the greyhounds are so for- 
tunate as to seize them , they are incapable 
of retaining their hold , from the amazing 
struggles of the animal. The bound of the 
kanguroo , when pressed , has been measu- 
red , and found to exceed twenty feed. When 
young , the kanguroo eats tender , and well 
flavoured , tasting like veal ; but the old 
ones are more tough and stringy than bull- 
beef. They are not carnivorous , but subsist 
altogether on particular flowers and gras^* 



( i?5 ) 

Their bleat is mournful , and very different 
from that of any other animal : it is howe- 
ver , seldom heard but in the young ones. 

Of the species of quadrupeds, there is the 
large uppossum , and also a kind of oppos- 
sum about the size of a large rat ; and what 
is very singular , this animal has a membra- 
nous bag near the stomach , in which it con- 
ceals and carries its young , when apprehen- 
sive of danger. 

There is a quadruped , which the natives 
call quoll. It resembles a pole cat. The back 
is brown , spotted with white ; and the belly 
w^hite unmixed. 

The only domestic animal they have is the 
dog , which , in their language , is called 
dingo and much resembles the fox dog of 
England. These animals are equally shy of 
strangers , and attached to the natives. 

Of bats , which hold a middle place bet- 
ween the beasts and the birds , there are many 
of differend kinds , particularly one, which 
is larger than a partridge. 

The country abounds with birds of various 
kinds , amongst whirh are many of exquisite 
beauty , particularly loriquets and cockatoos 
The water fowl are , gulls , shags ; soland 
geese , or gannets , of two sorts ; boobies , 
noddies , curiieus , ducks , pelicans of an 
enormous size , and many others. One of the 
most remarkable birds was black and white, 
much larger than a swan , and in shape 

H4 



( i?6) 
somewhat resembling a pelican. The land 
birds are, crows , parrots , pigeons , doves , 
quails , bustards ,. herons , cranes , hawks , 
eagles and a kind of ostrich. 

There are various sorts of fish; but , except 
the mullet , and some of the shell-fish, none 
of them are known in Europe. They are pa- 
latable , and some very delicious. Upon the 
shoals and reels are incredible numbers of the 
finest green turtle in the world , and oysters 
of various kinds , particularly the rock-oys- 
ter , and the pearl-oyster. The cockles are of 
such enormous size , that one of them was 
more than two people could eat. There are 
also large muscles , and stingrays , which 
weigh no less than 5oo pounds after the en- 
trails are taken out. In the rivers and salt 
creeks are alligators- 
Sharks of a very large size are found here. 
The Indians , probably from having felt the 
effects of their voracious fury , testify the 
utmost horror on seeing these terrible fish. 

Of insects , here is a very peculiar kind of 
ant , as green as a leaf. They live upon trees , 
where they build their nests. These nests are 
of a very curious structure : they are formed 
by bending down several: of the leaves , each 
of which is as broad as a man's hand : they 
glue the points of them together, so as to 
form a purse. The viscus used for this pur- 
pose is an animal juice , which nature has 
enabled them to elaborate* 



( *77 ) 

Upon the leaves of the mangrove are great 
numbers of small green caterpillars : their 
foreheads are thick set with hairs , and they 
range upon the leaves , side by side , to the 
number of twenty or thirty together : the hair 
of their bodies , on touching them , have the 
quality of a nettle , and give a more acute, 
though less durable pain. 

The weapons used by the natives of Botany 
Bay are spears or lances , and these are of dif- 
ferent kinds. Some of th^m have four prongs, 
pointed with bone , and barbed. Others have 
but one point. The shaft is strait and light 
and from eight to fourteen feet long. These 
spears, or lances are dreadful weapons ; for, 
W^hen once they have taken place , they can 
never be drawn back , without tearing away 
the flesh , or leaving the sharp ragged splin- 
ters of the bone , or shell , which forms the 
beard , behind them in the wound. They are 
thrown with great force and dexterity. If 
intended to wound at a short distance, bet- 
ween ten and twenty yards , simply w jfh 
the hand ; but if at the distance of fourty or 
fifty , with an instrument called a throwing- 
stick. 

The principal means of annoying their 
European visitors , was by setting fire to the 
high grass in the neighbourhood of the place 
where the tents were fixed , which , being 
very dry , burnt whith great rapidity ■ and 
did much damage. 

H5 



( '78 ) 
Captain Cook during his stay in Botany 
Bay , caused the English colours to be dis- 
played on shore every day; and , at his de- 
parture , on the 6 th of May , 1770 , he orde- 
red the ship's name , and the date of the 
year , to be inscribed upon one of the trees 
near th watering place. Mullel 

Du port Jackson. 

As Botany Bay was the spot destined for 
the planting a new colony in this part of the 
globe , the fleet , fitted out by government 
for the expedition , sailed from England lit 
March , 1787 j and having , in the course 
of their voyage , tourhed at Teneriffe , Piia 
de Janeiro in the Brazils , and the Cape of 
Good Hope , reached and anchored in the 
bay 011 the 20 th of Jannuary , 1 788 , after a 
passage tit thirty-six weeks , in which a 
most arduous undertaking was effected with 
more success y and less loss, than hardly 
ever af-mded a fleet in such a predicament* 
Previous to the settlement on the spot under 
immediate consideration , an expedition up, 
the bay was deemed expedient , in order to 
explore the nature of the country , and select 
a place for carrying into execution their plan 
and design. None being discovered that ap- 
peared very convenient for the purpose, the 
governor and the lieutenant-governor pro- 
ceeded ia a boat to examine an opening to 



( 179 ) 
which Captain Cook had given the name of 
Port Jackson , presuming that good ancho- 
rage might be found within. Nor did they 
search in vain ; for such was their account of 
the harbour , and the advantages attending 
the place upon their return , that a resolution 
was formed of evacuating Botany Bay the 
ensuing morning. 

At day break a general alarm was given , 
by te appearance of two ships of considerable 
size , standing in for the mouth of the bay , 
it being the prevailing opinion that they 
were Dutchmen , sent to assert a claim to the 
country. Their agitation of mind , however, 
ceased when the ships were found to be 
French , sent out by his most Christian Ma- 
jesty , under the command of Monsieur de 
Peyrouse. They dropped anchor the next mor- 
ning , just as our fleet got under weigh to 
work out of the bay , so that for that time , 
nothing more than salutations could pass bet- 
ween them. 

The passage from Botany B.:y to Port Jack- 
son was both speedy and pleasant. Having 
passed between the capes w r hich form its en- 
trance , the fleet arrived in a port , superior 
in extent and excellence , to all that had been 
observed before. During a run up the harbour 
of about four miles , in a westernly direction , 
a luxuriant prospect presented itself on the 
shores, covered with trees to the water's 
edge , among which , many of the Indians 

H 6 



( *8o ) 
Were frequently seen , till the fleet arrived »t 
a small snug cove to the southward on the 
banks of which the plan of operations was 
destined to commence. A small stream of 
fresh water runs into the head of the cove on 
which the establishment is fixed , and serves 
to divide the adjacent country to a little dis- 
tance , in the direction of north and south* 
On the east side of this rivulet the governor 
fixed' his place of residence. An officer ? with 
a body of men , was ordered to pat-role the 
country around ;. and the convicts were in- 
formed , that transgressors w r ould meet with 
the severest punishment. In spite , however , 
of all precautions , they soon found the road 
to Botany Bay in visits to the French ', though, 
from their known character , their company 
could not be very agreeable. 

During the time of their being on board 
ship , the two sexes had been kept most rigo- 
rously apart; but when landet, their sepa- 
ration was impraticable. To palliate, there- 
fore , the evils of their intercourse , marriage 
was recommended , and such advantages heki 
out to those who aimed at reformation , as 
have greatly contributed to the good order of 
the settlement. 

The necessary previous business having 
been transacted upon an appointed day , the 
commissions were read , and possession was* 
taken of the settlement in form. The marine 
battalion being, drawn up , and the convicts 



( i«i ) 

assembled on the occasion. His Majesty's com« 
mission was read, appointing His Excellency 
Arthur Philip , Esquire, Governor and Cap- 
tain General in and over the territory of New 
South Wales and its dependencies $ together 
with the acts of parliament for establishing 
trials by law within the same ; and the pa- 
tents under the great seal of Great Britain , 
for holding civil and criminal courts of judi- 
cature , by wich all cases of life and deaih , 
as well as matters of property , were to be 
decided. 

The extent of this authority is defined in 
the governor's commission , to reach from the 
latitude of 4^ degrees 49 minutes south , being 
the northern and southern extremities of New 
Holland. It commences again at the i55 th de- 
gree of longitude east, and proceeding in an 
easternly direction , comprehends all islands 
within the limits of the above specified lati- 
tudes in the Pacific Ocean. As the discoveries 
of English navigators alone are comprised in 
this territory , it is presumed this partition 
will obviate all cause of future litigation bet- 
ween us and the Dutch. Appears , from the 
commission , considered in the whole , that 
government have been no less attentive in 
arming Mr. Philip with plenitude of power ^ 
than extent of dominion. 

It was found necessary to enforce the ri- 
gour of the law, in order to restrain the 
violation of public security. A set of despe- 



( i8a) 
rate and hardened miscreants leagued them-? 
selves for the purpose of depredation ; and , as 
is generally the case , had insinuation enough 
to entice others , less versed in iniquity , to 
become instrumental in carrying it on. Their 
progress , however , was not of long dura- 
tion , as they were detected in stealing a large 
quantity of provisions at the time of serving 
them out , and being apprehended , one of 
the convicts impeached the rest , and disclo- 
sed the whole scheme. Of the four who were 
arraigned for the offence , three were con- 
demned to die 5 and the fourth to receive a 
severe corporal punishment. The governor 
however , desirous of trying the effects of 
lenity was pleased to order one only for exe- 
cution , which took place a little before sun- 
set , on the day the sentence was pronounced. 
The criminal was an old and desperate offen- 
der , and died with that hardy spirit which is 
too often found in the most flagitious and 
abandoned men. Two more the following 
day , were condemned to die for a similar 
offence. 

The approach of winter pointed out to the 
adventurers the necessity of interior quarters , 
as a security against the inclement weather 
they were taught to expect in this hemisphere 
though in so low a latitude. The erection of 
barracks , for the soldiers, was therefore pro- 
jected. 

But as these habitations were designed by 



( i83 ) 

tlie governor merely to answer the exigency 
of the moment , the plan of the town was 
drawn , and the ground , on which it was 
hereafter to stand , surveyed and marked out. 

The governor invariably intent on explo- 
ring the country, having formed a party, 
with unwearied industry and great toil , tra- 
versed an extensive track of ground , whhh 
appeared , from such observations as could 
be made , capable of producing every thing 
which a happy soil and genial climate can 
bring forth. The face of the country was snch 
as to promise success , whenever it should be 
cultivated r*but the itinerants , to their great 
disappointment , finding not a single rivulet, 
were under the necessity of supplying them- 
selves with water from standing pools 9 with 
whi( h they met in vallies , supposed to be 
formed by the rains that fell at particular sea- 
sons of the year. 

The only quadrupeds they saw worth no- 
tice , were a few kanguroos. They observed, 
to their great surprise , indisputable tracks of 
the natives having been lately there ; though , 
in their whsle route r none of them were to 
be seen , nor any means to be traced , by 
which they could procure subsistence so far 
from the sea shore. 

A vessel sailed to an adjacent island to pro- 
cure turtle for the settlement , but after wak- 
ing there several days , returned without one, 
ewi^g, as was apprehended, to the advanced 



( i84 ) 

season of the year. Fresh provisions were now 
become scarcer than in a blockaded town. 
The little live stock which , at so much ex- 
pence and with so many difficulties, had 
been brought on shore here , prudence for- 
bade the use of, and fish, which for a short 
time , had been tolerably plenty , were be- 
come very sarce ; so that had it not been for 
a stray kanguroo , which fortune now and 
then threw in the way , the people would, 
in general , have been strangers to the taste 
of fresh food. No wonder that the scurvy 
began its usual ravages , and extended its 
baneful influence through all descriptions of 
persons. To add to the calamity , the eatable 
vegetable productions of the country , neither 
abound nor are efficatious in the removal of 
this iisease. 

During these transactions , few enormous 
crimes were commit-ted by the convicts. A 
petty theft was sometimes heard of , and a* 
refractory spirit occasionally observed in 
some individuals I but only one execution took 
place. The crime was burglary ; the sufferer 
a young man , who met his fate with a hard- 
ness and insensibility , to be deplored in one 
educated , as he was , in a Christian country. 

The anniversary of the king's birth was 
celebrated with every expression of joy. The 
officers in general, were regaled at the go- 
vernor's table. Among other public toasts , 
was prosperity to Sidney Cove , ia Cumber- 



( 135) 
land County , now so named by authority- 

Nor were the rejoicings confined to the 
officers. Four unhappy wretches , under sen- 
tence of banishment , were freed from their 
fretters , to rejoin their former society ; and 
three days given as holydays to every convict 
in the colony. Hospitality was universally ex- 
tended ; for each prisoner, male and female , 
received an allowance of grog ; and every 
non-commissioned officer ,andprivatesoldiar, 
had the honour of drinking prosperity to his 
royal master in a pint of porter, served out 
at the flag staff, in addition to the custumary 
allowance of spirits. Except in a single ins- 
tance, no bad consequence , nor unpleasant 
remembrance flowed from an indulgence so 
amply bestowed. 

Soon after this scene of hilarity , a melan- 
choly event took place. The whole stock of 
black cattle , consisting of five cows and a 
bull , had strayed into the woods , and, not- 
withstandind the most diligent search could 
not be found. A male convict , accused of 
theft , having eloped nearly at the same time, 
it was at first imagined that he had taken the 
desperate measure of driving off the cattle 9 
in order to subsist on them as long as possi- 
ble , or perhaps to deliver them to the natives* 
Parties were sent in quest of him in vaia ; but, 
in the course of about twelve days , the crimi- 
nal made his appearance near a farm belon- 
ging to the governor , and intreated a con-* 



( i86) 

Vict , who happened to be on the spot , to 
give him some food , as he was perishing 
with hunger. The man under pretence of 
compliance , went away , and gave neces- 
sary information 5 in consequence of which , 
a party under arms , was sent out , and ap- 
prehended him. When the poor wretch was 
brought in , he was greatly emaciated , and 
almost famished ; but , through the efficacy 
of proper restoratives , he was so far recove- 
red in the course of four days , as to be able 
to stand his trial , when he pleaded guilty 
to the robbery with which he stood charged , 
and received sentence of death; though it ap- 
peared evidently , in the course of his exa- 
mination , he had not the least concern in 
driving off the cattle. 

Another convict , who had sentence of 
death passed on him at the same time , for a 
burglary , was executed with his unfortunate 
fellow criminal on the following day. They 
both discovered an exemplary penitence. 

For the advancement of the progress of the 
settlement ^ the male convicts were divided 
into gangs , over each of which a person , se- 
lected by themselves , was appointed snpe- 
rintendaut. It is however candidly affirmed , 
to the honour of these unhappy people , that 
the behaviour of ail classes of them , since 
their arrival in the settlement , has been much 
better than could have been expected. 

MlLLEHj 



( i87) 
De la Chine » 

China , an extensive empire in Asia , boun- 
ded on the north by Tartary , from which it 
is separated by a great wall , 5oo leagues in 
lenght j on the east by the Yellew Sea and 
the China Sea ; on the south by the latter 
sea , and the kingdoms of Tonquin , Laos , 
and Burmah j and on the west by Thibet. It 
is 2000 miles from north to south , and i5oo 
from east to west , and divided into i5 pro- 
vinces , which contain 4402 walled cities , 
divided into classes, the civil and military : 
the civil class contains 2045 , and that of the 
military 2557. The civil class is again divided 
into three other classes , namely , the first 
class , which are called fou ; the second, 
called tcheou ; and the third , which are 
called bicn. 

According to the statement of the popula- 
tion of China , delivered to Lord Macartney , 
at his request , by Chowta-zhin , a Chinese 
mandarin , and which was founded on docu- 
ments taken from one of the public offices in 
Pekin , the number of inhabitans in China is 
no less than 353,ooo,ooo. This estimate Sir 
George Staunton defends , and gives a variety 
of reasons , from circumstances almost pecu- 
culiar to China , to account for this wonder- 
ful population j observing , in conclusion , 
that from this statement it appears , that China 



( i88 ) 

contains , upon an average , about one third 
more inhabitants , than are found upon aa 
equal quantity of land , in the most populous 
country in Europe. 

The climate and soil are various , as the 
different provinces are nearer to , or remote 
from , the south ; severe cold being felt at 
Pekin , while the southern provinces are ex- 
posed to excessive heat. Here are several large 
rivers , and where these are wanting , there 
are fine cannals. In several of the provinces , 
the land yields two crops a year; yet, though 
the husbandman cultivates it with such care , 
as not to lose the smallest portion of ground , 
China has been often desolated by famine. 

Its numerous mountains ( which are chie- 
fly in the north and west parts of the empire) 
contain mines of iron , tin , copper , quick- 
silver , gold and siiver : but those of gold and 
silver are not permitted to be opened ; the em- 
perors having alvays feared 3 that if the peo- 
ple should be exposed to the temptation of 
these artificial riches , they would be indu- 
ced to neglect the more useful labours of agri- 
culture. Quarries of marble, coal mines , la- 
pis lazuli , rock crystals , precious stones , 
and a kind of sonorous stoues , of which mu- 
sical instruments are composed , are abun- 
dant in China. They have potters earth too , 
of such various and superior kinds , that their 
celebrated fine poi'celain will ever remain 
unrivalled. 



( 1 89 ) 

Beside the fruits , peculiar to the country, 
China produces the greater part of those ot 
Europe ; but ( excepting the grapes and po- 
megranates ) they are much inferior, Oran- 
ges were first brought us from China. They 
have also lemons , citrons , the tsetse , a kind 
of fig peculiar to China ; the li-tchi , of the 
size of a date , its stone covered with a soft 
juicy pulp of an exquisite taste , but dan- 
gerous when eaten to excess ; the long-yen , 
or dragons-eyes , its pulp white , tart, and 
juicy , not so agreable to the taste , but more 
wholesome than the li-tchi. 

The Chinese surpass us in the art of mana- 
ging kitchen gardens 3 and have a number of 
vegetables unknown to us. They cultivate 
even the bottom of their waters j the beds of 
their lakes , ponds , and rivulets , producing 
crops unknown to us , particularly of the pitsi , 
or water chestnut , the fruit of which ( found 
in a cover formed by its root ) is exceedingly 
wholesome and of a very delicate taste. 

Among the trees peculiar to China is the 
tallowtree , the fruit of which is contained in 
a husk , divided into three spherical segments 9 
which open , when it is ripe , and discover 
three white grains of the size of a small wal- 
nut , the pulp of which has all the properties 
of tallow ; the wax-tree , producing a kind 
of white wax , almost equal to that made by 
bees ; the tsi-chu , or varnish-tree , which 
produces the admirable Chinese varnish : the 



( *9° ) 
tic-ly-mon , or iron wood , the wood of 
which is so hard and heavy , that it sinks 
in water , and the anchors of the Chinese 
ships of war are made of it; the camphire- 
tree ; the bamboo-reeds , which grow to the 
height and size of a large tree , and beside 
being used as natural pipes to convey water , 
are employed for numberless other purposes ; 
the tea-plant, etc. with cotton , betel and ta- 
bacco : the flowering shrubs , flowers , herbs , 
and medicinal plants are too numerous to be 
recited. 

The mountains and wast forests abound of 
wild animals of every species ; but that va- 
luable quadruped , the musk deer , is peculiar 
to this country. Of their birds , the most 
beautiful in China, and perhaps in the world, 
is the kinhi , or golden fowl. 

The complexion of the Chinese is a sort of 
tawny , and they have large foreheads , small 
eyes , short noses , large ears , long beards , 
and black hair ; and those are thought to be 
the most handsome who are the most bulky. 
The women affect a great deal of modesty , 
and are remarkable for their little feet. The 
men endeavour to make as pompous an appea- 
rance as possible , when they go abroad ; 
and yet their houses are mean and low , con- 
sisting only of a groundfloor. 

Learning , with the arts and sciences in ge- 
neral , is much cultivated in this country. The 
governement is absolute , and tha emperor 



( x 9 i ) 

has the privilege of naming his successor ; but 
the chief mandarin has permission to tell him 
of his faults. He looks upon his subjects as Lis 
children , and professes to govern them with 
paternal affection. Their empire is very an- 
cient , and they pretend that it existed many 
thousand years before Noah's flood : it is ge- 
nerally allowed to have continued /jooo years. 

The annual revenues of the crown , accor- 
ding to Sir George Staunton , are said to be 
66,000,000 pounds sterling j and the army in 
the pay of China , including Tartars , amount 
to r, 000,000 infantry and 800,000 cavalry. 
Their religion is paganism. They allow po- 
ligamy , and keep their wives pretty close. 

The Chinese pretend to have a great vene- 
ration fort their ancestors ; and some keep 
images of them in their houses , to which 
they pay a sort of adoration. They have laws 
which regulate the civilities ad ceremonious 
salutations they pay to each other , for which 
reason they appear to be extremely good-na- 
tured ; and yet they are as deceitful as any 
people in the world, Their writing is very 
particular ; for every letter is a word , and 
consequently they have as many letters , or 
characters , as words in their language. All 
their towns are so much alike , that those 
who know one P are acquainted with all. 



( '9* ) 

Description de Pekin* 

Pekin the metropolis of the empire of China, 
seated in a fertile plain, in the province of 
Petcheii , fifty miles from the great Wall. It 
forms an exact square , and is divided into two 
cities ; the first inhabited by Chinese , the 
second by Tartars. These two cities , exclu- 
sive of the suburbs , are computed to be six 
leagues in circumference. The height and 
thickness of the walls of the Tartar city ex- 
cite admiration : twelve horsemen might ea- 
sily ride abreast on them ; and there are spa- 
cious towers , a bowshot distant from each 
other. The gates of this city are high and 
well arched , supporting buildings of nine 
stories high ; the lowest of which is for the 
soldiers when they come off guard : they are 
nine in number , and before each is an open 
space , which serves for a parade. 

The streets in general eare as straight as a 
line. The grand street is 120 feet wide : and 
a league in lenght. The shops on each side 
of the street, furnished with a beautiful va- 
riety of porcelain , varnished ware , aud the 
richest silks , exhibit a most pleasing picture. 
Every tradesman places a shop-board before 
the door of his shop , containing , in large 
characters 7 an account of the different ar- 
ticles of trade that he has to dispose of. 

Incredible numbers of passengers throng 

the 



OgS ) 

the streets , but not a single woman is seen 
among the multitude. Persons who ride in 
chairs are often under the necessity of having 
a horseman to go before them to clear the 
way. Several causes combine to produce these 
crowds : as for example , besides the wast 
number of peasants who repair hither from 
the neighbouring country places , with their 
camels , horses , mules , and other beasts of 
burden , the greatest part of the mechanics 
instead of keeping to their shops , go about 
town in quest of business , carrying with 
them the several implements of their respec- 
tive professions. Barbers, for instance, g* 
about ringing bells to get customers ; they 
carry with them a stool , bason , towel , pot 
and fire ; and when any person calls to them t 
they run up to him , and placing their stool 
in a convenient place in the street , they 
shave the head , clean the ears , put the eye* 
brows in order, and brush the shoulders, all 
for the value of little more than an half-penny. 
They then ring their bell again ; and are ready 
for another customer. The tailors , who ply 
in the streets , go home to the houses of their 
customers , and do their work tl ere : they 
do not use thimbles as ours do , but tie a rag 
upon their thumbs j nor do they sit down to 
their work but sew standing , except when 
they grow tired ; the work is upon a table , 
and they stand close to it. 

All the great streets are guarded hy soldiers-, 

I 



( '94 ) 

who patrole night and day with swords by 
their sides , and whips in their hands , to 
chastise those who make any disturbance , or 
take them in custody. The little streets have 
lattice-gates at their entrance into the great 
streets , which are shut up at night , and 
guarded by soldiers , who suffer no assemblies 
in the streets at that time. 

The emperor's palace and garden is sur- 
rounded by a brick wall , two miles in lenght, 
with pavilions at each corner , encompassed 
by galleries supported by columns : the archi- 
tecture of the stupendous pile of buildings of 
which the palace consists , is intirely different 
from that of the Europeans ; and they are co- 
vered with tiles of a shining beautiful yellow. 
The temples , and the towers of this city , 
are so numerous, that it is difficult to count 
them. 

The country about it , is sandy, and not 
very fruitful ; yet provisions of all kinds are 
exceedingly plentiful , they being , as well as 
the merchandise , brought from other parts 
by canals cut from the rivers , and always 
crowded with vessels of different sizes. 

An earthquake , which happened here in 
i65r, buried above 100,000 persons in the ruin 
of the houses. 

The inhabitants , of Pekin are estimated at 
two millions. A Russian church is established 
here whh a seminary, in which the students 
are permitted to reside for the purpose of 



( J<p ) 

learning the Chinese language. Since this esta- 
blishment , many interesting publications have 
appeared atPetersburgh, relative to the laws , 
history, and geography of China , translated 
from the originals published at Pekin. 

M ULLERc 

De Calcutta* 

Calcutta or Fort William , the emporium 
of Bengal , situated on the east side of the 
Hoogley , or western arm of the Ganges f 
too miles from its mouth , in the bay of 
Bengal. It is a modern city , having risen 
on the side of the village of Govindpour , 
about 1700, It extends from the west point 
of Fort William , along the banks of the 
river , almost to the village of Cossipoor * 
four miles and a half ; the breadth, in many 
parts , inconsiderable, 

Generally speaking , the description of one- 
Indian city is a description of all ; being all 
built on one plan , with very narrow and 
crooked streets ; an incredible number of 
reservoirs and ponds , and a great many gar- 
dens interspersed. A few of the streets are 
paved with brick. The houses are variously 
built ; some with brick , others with mud 9 
and a greater proportion with bamboos and 
mats , these different kinds of fabrics , inter- 
mixed with each other ? form a motley appea- 

I 2 



('96) 
ranee. Those of the latter kinds are invariably 
of one story , and covered with thatch ; those 
of brick seldom exceed two floors , and have 
flat-terrassed roofs ; but these are so thinly 
scattered, that fires , which often happen , do 
not sometimes , meet with the obstruction 
of a brick house through a whole street. But 
Calcutta is in part , an exception to this rule 
of building ; for there , the quarter inhabited 
by the English , is composed intirely of brick 
buildings , many of which have the appearance 
of palaces. 

The line of buildings that surrounds two 
sides of the esplanade of the fort , is magni- 
ficent ; and it adds greatly to the superb ap- 
pearance , that the houses are detached from 
each other , and insulated in a great space. 
The buildings are all on a large scale , from 
the necessity of having a free circulation of 
air in a climate, the heat of which is extreme. 
The general approach to the houses is by 
flight of steps with great projecting porticos , 
are surrounded by colonades , or arcades , 
which gives them the appearance of Grecian 
temples. But the remainder of the city , and 
by much the greatest part , is built as before 
described. 

Calcutta has been wonderfully improved 
both in appearance and in the salubrity of 
the air , for the streets have been properly 
drained , and the ponds filled up. It is sup- 
posed to contain about 5oo ; ooo inhabitants* 



( »97 ) 

The mixture of European and Asiatic man- 
ners , that may be observed here , is curious : 
coaches , phaetons , ch .uses , with the palan- 
keens , and hackeries of the natives , the 
passing ceremonies of the Hindoos , and the 
different appearances of the fakirs form a 
sight more extraordinary perhaps , than any 
other city can present. The hackery here 
mentioned , is a small covered carriage upon 
two wheels , drawn by bulloks , and used 
generally for the female part of the family. 
The Ganges is navigable up to the town for 
the largest ships that visit India. 

Here is the seat ef the governor-general , and 
council of Bengal , who have a controll over 
the presidencies of Madras , Bombay , and 
Bencooien. Here is likewise a supreme court 
of judicature , in which justice is dispensed , 
according to the laws of England , by a chief 
justice and three puisne judges. 

In 1756, Calcutta was taken by the Soubah 
of Bengal, who forced the feeble garrison , to 
the amount of 146 persons , into a prison 
called the black hole , a cube of 18 feet , out 
of which only 25 came alive the next mor- 
ning. It was retaken the next year ; the vic- 
tory of Plassey followed ; and the inhuman 
Soubah was deposed , and put to death by his 
successor. Immediately after this victory, the 
erection of Fort William commenced ? which 
is superior to any fortress in India. 

MUL L E IU 

15 



( *98 ) 
De Madras. 

Madras , or Fort St. George , the principal 
settlement of the English East India Company, 
on the east side of the peninsula of Hindostan , 
on the coast of Coromandel. It is a fortress of 
great strength , including within it a regular 
well built city. It is close on the margin of 
the bay of Bengal ,' from which it has a rich 
and beautiful appearance ; the houses beeing' 
covered with a stucco called chunam , which 
is nearly as compact as the finest marble , and 
bears as heigh a polish. They consist of long 
colonnades , with open porticos , and flat 
roofs ; and the city contains many handsome 
and spacious streets. But the inner apartments 
of the houses are not highly decorated , pre- 
senting to the eye only white walls ; which, 
however , from the marblelike appearance 
of the stucco , give a freshness grateful in 
such a country. Ceilings are very uncommon 
in the rooms ; it being impossible to fkrd'any 
which will resist the ravages of the white 
ant. These animals are chiefly formidable 
from the immensity of their numbers , which 
are such as to destroy , in one night's time , 
a ceiling of any dimensions, and it is the 
wood work which serves for the basis of the 
ceilings, such as the laths , beams , etc. that 
these insects attack. 

« The approach to Madras , from the sea % 



1 t99 ) 



l- 

( says Mr. Hodges ) offers to the eye an ap- 
pearance similar to what we may conceive 
of a Grecian city in the age of Alexander. 
The clear , blue , cloudless sky , the polished 
while buildings , the bright sandy beach ; 
and the dark green sea , present a combina- 
tion totally new to the eye of an Englishman , 
just arrived from London , who , accustomed 
to the sight of rolling masses of clouds floa- 
ting in a damp atmosphere , cannot but con- 
template the difference with delight : and the 
eye being thus gratified , the mind soon assu- 
mes a gay and tranquil habit , analogous to 
the pleasing objects with which it is sur- 
rounded. 

Sometime before the ship arrives at her 
anchoring ground , she is hailed by the boats 
of (he country, filled with people of business, 
who come in crowds on board. This is the 
moment in which an European feels the 
great distinction between Asia and his own 
country. The rustling of fine linen , and the 
general hum of unusual conversation , pre- 
sent to his mind for a moment the idea of 
an assembly of females. When he ascends 
upon the deck , he is struck with the long 
muslin dresses , and black faces , adorned 
with very large gold ear-rings and white 
turbans. The first salutation he receives from 
these strangers , is by bending their bodies 
very low , touching the deck with the back 
of the hand f and the forehead ad three times. 

I 4 



( 200 ) 

The natives first seen in India by the Eu- 
ropean voyager , are Hindoos , the original 
inhabitants of the peninsula. In this part of 
India they are delicately framed ; their hands, 
in particular , are more like those of tender 
females ; and do not appear to be what is 
considered a proper proportion to the rest 
of the person , which is usually above 
the middle size. Correspondent to this deli- 
cacy of appearance are their manners ; mild 
tranquil , and sedulously attentive ; in this 
last respect they are indeed remarkable , as 
they never interrupt any person who is spea- 
king, but wait patiently till he has concluded; 
and then answer with the most perfect res- 
pect and composure. 

From the ship a stranger is conveyed o« 
shore in a boat of the country , called a 
Massoolah boat $ a work of curious construc- 
tion , and well calculated to elude the violent 
shocks of the surf, that break here with great 
violence : they are formed without a keel , 
flat bottomed , with the sides raised high , 
are sewed together with the fibres of the co- 
coa-nut tree , and caulked with the same ma- 
terial. They are remarkably light , and are 
managed with great dexterity by the natives ; 
they are usually attended by two kattamaran3, 
( rafts )paddled by one man each , the intention 
of which is , that , should the boat be overset 
by the violence of the surf, the persons in it 



( 201 ) 

may be preserved. The passengers are landed 
on a fine sandy beach ; and immediately enter 
the fort of Madras. 

The appearance of the natives is exceedin- 
gly varied ; some are wholly naked , and 
others so clothed , that nothing but the face 
and neck is to be discovered ; beside this , the 
European is struck with many other objects, 
such as women carried on men's shoulders , 
on palankeens , and men riding on horseback 
clothed in linen dresses like women , which, 
with the very different face of the country 
from all he had ever seen , or conceived of , 
excite the strongest emotions of surprise ! » 

There is a second city called the Black 
town, separated from Madras by the breadth 
of a proper esplanade only ; and although 
near four miles in circuit , fortified in such 
a manner as to prevent a surprise from the 
enemy's horse ; an evil , to which every town 
in the Carnatic is subject , from the dryness 
and evenness of the country. 

Madrass was settled by the English about 
the year 1640. It was taken by the French in 
1746 , but restored in 1748. The present fort 
which was erected since the destruction of 
Fort St. David, in 1758, is perhaps one of 
the best fortresses in the possession of the 
British nation. , 

Madras : in common with all the European 
settlements on this coast , has no port for 

I 5 



( 202 ) 

6 hipping; the coast forming nearly a straight 
line ; and it is incommoded also with a high 
and dangerous surf. Mulletu 

Description de Londres* 

London , the metropolis of Great Britain , 
is the chief town of trade in the whole world* 
This city is very ancient. It is mentioned by 
Tacitus as a place of considerable trade in the 
reign of Nero , and hence we may conclude , 
it was fouuded about the time of Claudius, 
and the year of Christ 4 2 * 

The city of London has undergone great 
calamities of various kinds; but the two last 
were most remarkable; that is , the plague in 
1 665 , which swept away 68,596 persons ; 
and the fire in 1666, which burnt down 
1 5,2oo dweliinghouses. 

Loudon , in its large sense , comprehending 
Westminster, Southwark , and part of Midd- 
lesex , is a city of surprising extent , prodi- 
gious wealth, and most extensive trade. It is 
delightfully and advantageously situated on 
the batiks of the Thames , from which it rises 
with a gradual ascent. Nothing can be more 
beautiful than the surrounding country , con- 
sisting of rich corn fields ? fertile meadows ^ 
large tracks of garden grounds , parks , and 
elegant villas , belonging to the nobility , and 
persons of opulence. 

The irregular form of this city renders it 



( 203 ) 

difficult to ascertain its extent. The best idea 
that can be formed of it , is from the number 
of the people , who are computed to be up- 
wards of a million , and from the multiplicity 
of edifices devoted to the service of religion. 
To describe the various structures with which 
this city abounds would require a volume. 
The most remarquable therefore , will only 
be attended to under this article. 

London - bridge was firts built of stone in 
the reign of Henry II, about the year n63. 
From that time it has undergone many alte- 
rations and improvements , particularly since 
the year 1 756 , when the houses were taken 
down , and the whole rendered more conve- 
nient and beautiful. 

Westminster-bridge is reckoned one of the 
most complete and elegant structures of the 
kind in the known world. It is built entirely 
of stone , and extended over the river at a 
place where it is 1223 feet broad , which is 
above 3oo feet broader than at London-bridge. 
On each side is a flue ballustrade of stone , 
with places of shelter from the rain. This 
magnificent structure was begun in 1758 , and 
finished in 17S0. 

Blackfriars-bridge, which, in magnificence 
or workmanship , is allowed to fall nothing 
short of that of Westminster , was begun in 
1760 , and finished in 1770. It is situated 
almost at an equal distance between those of 
Westminster and London ? commands a view 

16 



( 2o4 ) 

of the Thames from the latter to Whitehall > 
and discovers the majesty of St. Paul's in a 
very striking manner. 

The cathedral of St. Paul is one of the most 
capacious, magnificent, and regular Protestant 
churches in the world. It is built of Portland 
stone , according to the Greek and Roman 
orders , in the form of a cross , after the 
model of St. Peter's at Rome , to which in 
some respects , it is deemed superior. This 
edifice is the principal work of Sir Christo- 
pher Wren , and undoubtedly the only work 
of the same magnitude that ever vas comple- 
ted by one man. He lived to a great age , and 
finished the building 5.7 years after himself 
laid the first stone. The expence of rebuil- 
ding it after the fire of London , was defrayed 
by a duty on coals , and is computed at a 
million pounds sterling. 

Westminster abbey is a venerable pile of 
building in the Gothic taste. It was first built 
by Edward the Confessor. King Henry 111 % 
rebuilt it from the ground ; and Henry VII > 
added a fine chapel to the east end of it > 
which Lei a nd calls << The Wonder of the 
world. » This is the depository of the decea- 
sed British kings and nobility , and here are 
also monuments erected to perpetuate the me- 
mories of poets , philosophers , heroes , and 
patriots. 

The inside of the church of St. Stephen % 
Walbrook , is admired for its lightness and 



( 205 ) 

elegance. The steeples of St. Mary-le-Bow 
and St. Bride's are supposed to be the most 
complete in their kind of any in Europe. Few 
churches in or about London are without 
some beauty. Several of the new ones are 
built in elegant taste ; and even some of the 
■chapels have gracefulness and proportion to 
recommend them. 

The parish churches in the Bills of Morta- 
lity, amount to, 146 j namely, 97 within 
the walls , 16 without the walls , 20 out pa- 
riches in Middlesex and Surry, and 10 in 
the city and liberties of Westminster. Beside 
these churches , is one belonging to the Tem- 
ple , a celebrated seat of law. It was foun- 
ded by the Knights Templars , in the reign 
of Henry II , upon the model of that of the 
Holy Sepulchre , at Jerusalem. There are 
likewise a great number of chapels for the 
established church, foreign protestant chur- 
ches, Roman catholic chapels, meetings for 
dissenters of all persuasions , and three syna- 
gogues fort the jews. 

The public schools are , that of St. Paul j 
Merchant Tailors school , in Suffolk- lane , 
near Cannon-street. The Charter-house ; the 
Royal school in Westminster ; and St. Mar- 
tin's school , near the Ring's Mews. 

The royal palace of St. James's is an an- 
cient building , on the north side of a small 
park? mean in external appearance ; but the 
apartments are said to be the best calculated 



( 206 ) 

for regal parade of any in Europe. The royal 
town residence is a house at the west side of 
St. James's park, built by the duke of Buck- 
ingham , and purchased by the king in 1761 , 
when it received the appellation of the Queen's 
palace ; but is still frequently called Buckin- 
gham House. Carlton House , the residence of 
the prince of Wales , to the east of St. James 
palace , is a stately building, on which vast 
sums have been expended , but it is not yet 
completed. The Banqueting House , at Whi- 
tehall , begun in 1619, is only a small past 
of the wast plan of a palace , intended to be 
worthy of the residence of the British mo- 
narchs , but left incomplete. 

Westminster-hall , though on the outside 
it makes no very advantageous appearance , 
is a noble Gothic building , and deemed the 
largest room in the world , whose roof is not 
supported with pillars. Here are held the 
coronation feasts of the kings and qneens : 
also the courts of chancery, king's bench , 
common pleas , and excheqner , and adjoi- 
ning to which are the Houses of Lords and 
Commons. 

That beautiful column called the Monu- 
ment , erected at the charge of the city to 
perpetuate the memory of the dreadful fire of 
London In 1666 , is worthy of notice. This 
monument was begun by Sir Christopher 
Wren in 671 , and finished by him in 1677. 

The Pioyal Exchnge is a large and noble 



( 20 7 ) 
edifice calculated for the transaction of corn, 
mercial business between the merchants of 
London and other places. 

To these may be added the Tower of Lon- 
don , an ancient fortress 9 once a royal pa- 
lace , now containing some public offices , a 
magazine and arsenal , the regalia of the 
kingdom , the mint , and a menagerie- The 
Bank of England Guildhall , the College of 
Physicians in Warwicklane , Christ's Hospi- 
ta, the College of Heralds ,the New Treasury, 
the Admiralty office , the Horse Guards at 
Whitehall , the Mansion-house ? or the house 
of the Lord Mayor , the Custom - house f 
Excise-office , India-house , Inns of court ? a 
great number of other public buildings , be- 
sides the magnificent edifices raised by the 
nobility and gentry. 

In the center of the town , and upon the 
banks of the noblest river in Europe 7 was a 
chain ot inelegant ruinous houses , known by 
\hc names of Durham-yard , the Savoy , and 
Sommerset-house. The first being private pro- 
perty, engaged the notice of an ingenious 
architect , who opened the way to a piece of 
scenery which no city in Europe can equal* 
On the side of Durham-yard was raised upon 
arches the pile of the Adelphi , celebrated 
for its enchanting prospect , the utility of 
itb wharfs , and its subterranenous aparte- 
ments , answering a variety of purposes of 
general benefit. 



( 208 ) 

Contiguous to the Adelphi stands the Savoy, 
the property of government , hitherto a nui- 
sance ; and adjoining to the Savoy , towards 
the Temple , stood Somersethouse , where , 
being the property of government also , a 
new pile of buildings for public offices has 
been erected ; and here , in a very magnifi- 
cent edifice , called Somersethouse , are ele- 
gant apartments appointed for the use of the 
Royal Society , the Royal Academy of Pain- 
tings and Sculpture , and the Society of 
Antiquaries. 

Among the list of improvements worthy 
notice , may be included the Six Clerks-office 
in Chancery-lane ; and that very substantial 
building in the Old Bailey , which does ho- 
nour to a people celebrated for their clean- 
liness and humanity. Here the unfortunate 
debtor will no longer be annoyed by the 
dreadful rattle of chains , and by the more 
horrid sounds issuing from the lips of those 
wretched beings who set defiance to all laws , 
human and divine ; and here also the offen- 
der , whose crime is not capital 3 may enjoy 
a free open air. 

In the metropolis , and its environs , are 
many excellent charitable foundations ; parti- 
cularly St. Bartholomew's Hospital , near 
SmithlieM ; the Smallpox Hospital , in Cold- 
bath-fields , and another near Battle-bridge- 
Wells ; the Lying-in Hospital in BroWnlow- 
street , Longacre $ another in the City Road $ 



( 2°9 ) 
^nd a third near Westminster-bridge ; St* 
Thomas and Guy's hospitals in Southwark ; 
St. George's and the Lock near Hide-Park- 
corner ; the Middles ex Hospital in Totten- 
ham- Court - Road; the London Hospital at 
Mile end ; the Magdalen , for the reformation 
of prostitutes and the Asylum for the recep- 
tion of female orphans , in St. George's Fields. 
To these must be added , Bedlam , or Beth- 
lem Hospital , for lunatics , in Lower Moor- 
fields ; and St. Luke's , lately in LIpper Moor- 
fields , but now erected upon a large and ex- 
tensive plan in Old-street Road. The Foundling 
Hospital merits equal notice , as its plans and 
erections are equally laudable and liberal. 

The new buildings in the liberty of West- 
minster have , within these few years , increa- 
sed to a prodigious degree. Among them are 
several magnificent squares , as those of Ha- 
nover , Berkeley , Grosvenor , Cavendish , 
Portman , and Manchester. To the east of 
this last is Portland Place , the buildings , in 
which are deemed superior in grandeur to 
any in Europe. Besides the above squares 
there are St. James's , Soho , Leicester , 
Golden ; Bloombsbury 5 and Bedford ; to 
which may be added the magnificent square 
called Lincoln's - Inn - Fields , and several 
others of less note , both in the city and 
suburbs. 

The very elegant method of paving and en- 
ligthening the streets is felt in the most sen- 



( 2X0 ) 
sible manner by all ranks and degrees of peo- 
ple. The roads are continued for several miles 
around upon the same model , and , exclusive 
of lamps regularly placed on each side , at 
short distances , are rendered more secure by 
watchmen stationed within call of each other, 
Nothing can appear more brillant than the 
lights when viewed at a distance , especially 
when the roads run across ; and even the 
principal streets , such as Pall - Mall , New te 
Bond-street, Oxford - street , etc. convey an 
idea of elegance and magnificence. 

The trading part of the city of London is 
divided into a number of companies. Of those 
there are 12 principal ; the mercers , grocers, 
diapers , fishmongers, goldsmiths, stationers ; 
merchant- taylors., haberdashers , salters , 
ironmongers , vintners and clothworkers. 
The city magistrates are the lord-mayor , 26 
aldermen , 256 common-council men , a re- 
corder, two sheriffs , a chamberlain , a com- 
mon- Serjeant, and town-clerk. 

The city and liberties of Westminster are 
governed by a high-steward , a head-bailiff, 
a high-constable and 14 burgesses. 

Learned bodies of men , besides the clergy , 
are , the Royal Society , she College of Phy- 
sicians , and the Society of Antiquarians. 
The British Museum in Great Russei-street , 
Bloomshury ; and the Leverian or Parkinson's 
Museum in Great Surry-street ; Black-friars, 
are perhaps , the noblest of their kind in Eu- 
rope* 



( 211 ) 

Such on a cursory of it , is the metropolis 
of great-Britain , to the extent and opulence 
of which many causes have contributed. From 
the openness of the country round , especially 
on the London side , and a gravelly soil , it 
is kept tolerably dry in all seasons , and af- 
fords no lodgment fort stagnant air or water. 
Its cleanliness , as well as its supply of wa- 
ter , are greatly aided by to situation on the 
banks of the Thames , and the New River , 
with many good springs within the city it- 
self , further contributes to the abundance of 
that necessary element. All these are advan- 
tages , with respect to health , in which this 
metropolis is exceeded by few. 

With regard to the circumstance of naviga- 
tion , it is so placed on the Thames , as to 
possess every advantage that can be derived 
from a seaport , without its dangers ; and at 
the same time , by means of its noble river > 
enjoys a very extensive communication with 
the internal parts of the country , which sup- 
ply it with all sorts of necessaries , and , in 
return , receive from it such commodities as 
they require. 

London is the seat of many considerable 
manufactures ; some almost peculiar to itself, 
others in which it participates with the ma- 
nufacturing towns in general. 

The most important of its peculiar manu- 
factures is the silk-weaving , established in 
Spitaifields by refugees from Fiance. A va- 



riety of works in gold ? silver , and jewelle- 
ry ; the engraving of prints ; the making of 
prints ; the making of optical and mathema- 
tical instruments , are likewise principally or 
solely executed here , and some of them in 
greater perfection than in any other country. 
The porter-brewery , a business of very 
great extent , is also chiesHy carried on in 
London. To it^port are likewise confined 
some branches of foreign commerce 5 as the 
vast East-India trade , and those to Turkey 
and Hudson's Bay. Thus London has risen to 
its present rank to the first city in Europe , 
with respect to opulence , and number of in- 
habitants. MULLER. 

Description de Pqris. 

Paris , the metropolis of France, is situated 
on the river Seine in the Isle of France , being 
one of the largest and finest cities in Europe. 
It derives its name from the ancient Parisis , 
and had formely , as it is imagined , the Latin 
name of Lutetia, from the wordlutum , which 
implies mud , as it was originally founded 
on a marshy soil. Paris has been the residence 
of the French monarchs for upwards of 800 
years , that is ever since the reign of Hugh 
Capet. 

The river Seine , which crosses it , forms 
two small islands j and it is six leagues in 



( 213 ) 

circumference , including the suburbs. The 
inhabitants are computed to be 800,000. 

There are nine principal bridges in Paris , 
two of which , and the most distinguished , 
occupy the whole breadth of th,e Seine ; na- 
mely , Pont Neuf and Pont Royal ; to which 
may be added , the new bridge 5 begun in 
1787 , and called Pont de Louis Seize. But it 
is here to be observed , that all the names of 
buildings , squares , streets , etc. in compli- 
ment to royalty , have been changed , since 
tbe abolition of monarchy in 1792. The other 
bridges are, Pont St. Michel , Pont au Change , 
Petit Pont , Pont Notre Dame , Pont de la 
Tournelle , Pont Marie , and Pont Rouge, 
This last which is a timber bridge , painted 
red , is the point of communication between 
the Isle du Palais and Isle St. Louis. 

Among a great number of public fountains , 
tvyo only merit notice ; tliat of the Innocents, 
in which among other fine pieces of sculpture, 
is a Galatea by Goujeon ; and that of Gre- 
nelle, the performance of the celebrated Bou- 
chardon. There are three triumphal arches , 
erected to Lewis XIV , and known hy the 
names of Porte St. Bernard , Porte St. Denis, 
and Porte St. Martin. Of the squares in Paris 
( once adorned with the statues of their mo- 
narchs ) the finest is the Place de Louis XV , 
of an octogon form , in which was an eques- 
trian statue , in bronze , of that monarch. 
This square , now called the Place de la Re- 



( 214 ) 

volution , was the fatal scene ofihe execution 
of Lewis XVI , of his consort Marie Antoi- 
nette , and of his sister the princess Elisabeth. 

Beside the cathedral of Notre Dame , one 
of the largest in Europe , Paris has many fine 
churches. The new church of St. Genevieve, 
(now called the Pantheon) was destined by 
the National Assembly, in 1791 , to receive 
the remains of such great men as had meri- 
ted well of their country. The remains of 
Rousseau , Voltaire , and Descartes 4 , have ac- 
cordingly been removed hither. The cele- 
brated orator Mirabeau , and the sanguinary 
Marat were enterred here 5 but their bodies have 
been since removed and it has been decreed , 
that no person shall receive the honours of the 
Pantheon , until he has been dead ten years. 

The finest college in Paris is that of the 
Four Nations , called also Mazarin, from the 
cardinal , its founder. Among the public li- 
braries , that lately called the kings , holds 
the first rank , in respect both to the extent 
of the buildings , and the number of volumes. 
The Royal ( now National ) Observatory is 
built of freestone and neither iron nor wood 
has been employed in the erection. The Bo. 
tanical Garden is worthy of its late appella- 
tion of Royal. 

The four principal palaces are the Louvre ; 
the Tuileries , now the Palais National ; the 
Palais Royal , now the Palais d'Egalite ; and 
the Luxemburg , which has been recently con- 



( 2i5 ) 
Verted into a revolutionary prison. The garden 
of the Tuileries in front of the palace , and on 
the banks of the Seine , is the finest public 
walk in Paris. The Palais Royal was long the 
property of the late dukes of Orleans ; and 
the interior courts have been embellished with 
many beautiful buildings , with shops , cof- ' 
fee-houses , and a garden , which render it 
like a perpetual fair. 

The Hotel-des-Invalides , for the wounded 
and superannuated soldiery , is a magnificent 
structure , built by Lewis XIV ; as is the Mi- 
litary School , in the Champ de Mars , founded 
by Lewis XV. 

The two principal theatres are the Theatre 
de la Nation and the Italian Theatre ; which , 
in point of elegance and convenience , are 
worthy of the capital of a great nation. The 
Monnoie or Mint , is also a noble building , 
situated on that side of the Seine , opposite the 
Louvre. The Hotel de Ville is an ancient struc- 
ture , in the Place de Greve , which was the 
common place of execution , till lately when 
the Place de la Revolution , and afterwards 
the site of the Bastile , were appropriated to 
that purpose. 

The most interesting of the manufactures 
of Paris is that of the Gobelins ( so called 
from a family of celebrated diers settled here 
in 1460 ) in which tapestries are made after 
the pictures of the greatest masters , to such 
perfection 9 that one , representing Lewis X V , 



( ai6) 
a whole length , framed , and placed among 
the masterpieces of painting , was taken for 
many days , by multitudes of visitors , for a 
finished piece. The manufacture of plate-glass 
likewise merits attention. Paris is an archbis- 
hopric , and the seat of a university. It now 
forms , with a small district round it , one of 
the departments of France. Muller. 

Constantinople. 

Constantinople , the ancient Byzantium , 
one of the most celebrated cities in Europe , 
in Romania , and capital of the Ottoman em- 
pire. It is seated on a neck of land , which 
advances toward Natolia , from which it is 
separated by a strait , a mile in breadth. The 
sea of Marmora washes its walls on the south , 
and a gulf^of the strait of Constantinople does 
the same on the north. It is delightfully situa- 
ted between the Black Sea and the Archipe- 
lago. Constantine the Great chose this place 
for its residence , and rebuilt it after the model 
of Rome. It was taken , in i453 , by the 
Turks , who have kept possession of it ever 
since. 

The number of houses in Constantinople 
must be prodigious ', but ,|in general , they are 
mean , especially on the outside , were there 
are few or no widows , and the streets being 
narrow, gives them a melancholy appearance. 
They reckon that there are 5770 streets and 

lanes , 



( 217) 
lanes , but they are seldom or never clean ; 
and the people are very often infested with 
ihe plague. The inhabitants , who are said 
to amount to 900,000 are half Turks , two 
thirds of the other half Greeks or Armenians , 
and the rest Jews. 

Here are a great number of ancient monu- 
ments still remaining, and particularly the su- 
perb temple of St. Sophia, which is converted 
into a mosque , and surpasses all the rest. It 
was built by the emperor Justinian, and tha 
Turks hold it in the same veneration as the 
Christians did , the grand Signior going there 
in person every Friday; the revenue belonging 
to it is very great , and it will contain 100,000 
persons convenient^. 

The bazars , or bezesteins , are the markets 
for merchandise : they are large square build- 
ings covered with domes , supported by ar- 
cades and containing all sorts of goods, which 
are there exposed to sale. There is a market 
for slaves of both sexes ; and the Jews are the 
princial merchants , who bring ihem here to 
be sold. A great number of girls are brought 
from Hungary , Greece , Candia , Circassia , 
Mingrelia , and Georgia , for the service of 
the Turks , who generally buy them for their 
seraglios. The great square , near the mosque 
of sultan Bajazet , is the place for public di- 
versions. 

The grand signior's palace , called the 

K 



( 218 ) 

seraglio , is on the seaside, and is surrounded 
by walls flanked with towers > and separated 
from the city by canals. It stands on the site 
of ancient Byzantium , and consists of an as- 
semblage of palaces and apartments placed by 
the side of one another without symetry and 
without order. The principal entrance of this 
palace is of marble , and is called Capi , that 
is , the port or gate , a name used frequently 
to express the court , or the empire. 

The ladies of the haram , or seraglio, are a 
collection of beautiful young women sent as 
presents from different provinces. Their num- 
ber depends on the taste of the reigning mo- 
narch. It has been from 200 to 5oo. On their 
admission they are committed to the care of 
eunuchs and old ladies , taught every accom- 
plishment , and furnished with the richest 
clothes. They sleep in separate beds , and bet- 
ween every fifth there is a preceptress. They 
are allowed no servants and therefore obliged 
to wait on one another by rotation. They are 
scarcely ever suffered to go abroad , except 
when the grand seignior removes from one 
place to another , when a troop of black eu- 
nuchs conveys them to the boats which are 
enclosed with lattices , and linen curtains. 
When they go by land they are put into close 
chariots , and signals are made at certain 
distances to give notice that none approach 
the roads through which they march. Among 



( 2T 9 ) 
the emperor's attendants are numbers of mu- 
tes , who act and converse by signs , and 
some dwarfs for his own diversion. 

The circumference of this city is said to be 
1 5 miles , and 5o with the suburbs included: 
the suburb , called Pera , is the place w T here 
the foreign ambassadors reside , two thirds 
of which was detroyed by a fire in March 
1799. The city is built in the form of a trian- 
gle ; and as the ground rises gradually , there 
is a wiev of the whole town from the sea. 
It is surrounded with walls of free stone , 
here and there mixed with bricks , and flan- 
ked by 25o towers. There are 22 gates , six 
on the land-side , and the rest towards the 
sea. The palaces , mosques , bagnios , and 
caravansarais , are many of them magnificent* 

Mt T LLER. 

Des Pjramides d'Egypte. 

These pyramids are constructed on that 
ridge of rocks , which is the boundary of 
Libya , and generally called the pyramids of 
Giza. They are about 20 in number , but two 
of them have been principal objects of atten- 
tion. The folloving account concerning them , 
is related by a character eminent for rank and 
litterature. He writes thus : « We left Giza an 
hour after midnight 5 and scarcely had pro- 
ceeded a quarter of a league before we per- 
ceived the tops of of tha tw r o grand pyramids 5 

K z 



( 220 ) 

we were but three leagues from them , and 
the moon shone on them with full splendour. 
They appeared like two pointed rocks , with 
their summits in the clouds ; and the aspect of 
these antique monuments , which have survi- 
ved nations , empires , and the ravages of 
time , inspired veneration. 

We approached the pyramides , which , 
with aspect varying , according to the win- 
dings of the plain we traversed , and the 
situation of the clouds , became more and 
more distinct. At half past three in the mor- 
ning we found ourselves at the foot of the 
greatest. We left our cloaths at the door 
where it entered , and descended each with 
a torch. We proceeded till we came to a 
place where we were obliged to crawl , to 
pass into the second entry , which correspon- 
ded to the first. We then ascended on our 
knees , supporting ourselves with our hands 
against the sides , otherwise we were in dan- 
ger of sliding precipitely down an inclining 
plane, the notches or steps of which dit not 
afford certain foot - hold. We fired a pistol 
about the middle , the fearful noise of which 
was long reverberated among the cavities of 
this immense edifice , and which awakened 
numbers of bats , which were very large , 
that darting up and down , beat againts our 
hands and faces , and extinguished several of 
our lights. When come to the top we entered, 
through a Yery low door 7 a great oblong 



( 221 ) 
chamber , entirely of granite. Seven enor- 
mons stones , crossing from one wall to the 
other , formed the ceiling. A sarcophagus , 
cut from a block of marble , is placed at one 
end. It has been violated by man , for it is 
empty , and the lid has been torn off. Bits of 
earthen vases are scattered round. Beneath 
this chamber is a lesser one , where is the 
entrance of a conduit full of rubbish. 

After examining these caverns , where the 
light of day never enters , and the shades of 
eternal night grow more thick and dark , we 
descended by the way we came , taking care 
not to tumble into a well which is on the left ? 
and reaches to the bottom of the pyramid. The 
air within this edifice being never changed, is 
so hot and foul as almost to suffocate. When 
\ye came out we were bathed in sweat , as 
pale as death , and might have been taken 
spectres rising from the abyss of darkness. 

Having eagerly breathed the open air , and 
refreshed ourselves , we hastened to scale , 
this mountain of man. It is composed of 
more than two hundred layers cf stone, that 
recede in proportion to their height, which is 
from four feet to two. These enormous steps 
must all be mounted to arrive at the summit , 
and this we untertook , begining at the north- 
east angle , which is the least damaged , but 
did not accomplish our task till after half an 
hour's severe labour. 

Day began to break , and the east gradually 

R3 



( 222 ) 

assumed more glowing colours. We sat enjoy- 
ing a pure air , and most agreeable coolness. 
The sunbeams soon gilded the top of Mokka- 
tam (a mountain which overlooks Grand Cairo) 
and soon rose above it in the horizon. We 
received the first rays , and beheld at a dis- 
tance , the tops of the pyramids of Saccara, 
three leagues from us in the Plain of Mummies 
The rapid light discovered every moment new 
beauties. The herds left the hamlets , the boats 
spread their sails , and our eyes followed the 
vast winding of the Nile. On the north were 
sterile hills , and barren sands ; on the south 
the river and waving fields. To the east stood 
the small town of Giza j and the towers of 
Tostat , with the castle of Salah Eddin , ter- 
minated the prospect. The universe contains 
not a prospect more variegated , more mag- 
nificent or more awful. 

Having engraved our names on the top of 
the pyramid , we cautiously descended, for 
the deep abyss lay be fere us : a piece of stone 
breaking under our hands , or beneath our 
feet , would have cast us down headlong. 

Once more safe at the bottom , we made 
the tour of the pyramid , contemplating it 
with a kind of terror. On a near view it seems 
composed of detached rooks ; but at ioo paces 
distant the largeness of the stones is lost ia 
the immensity of the structure and they ap- 
pear very small. » 

Many travellers and learned men , from 



( 223 ) 

the time of Herodotus , the Greek historian , 
to the present date, have measured the grand 
pyramid, and the difference of their calcula- 
tions , far from removing , has but augmen- 
ted doubt concerning it. A modern writer of 
repute says that its perpendicular height is 
near 5oo feet. 

The second pyramid is about ten yards 
south of the first* The archildcture of it is 
much like the former , but it is greatly infe- 
rior m size. 

The third pyramid is said tho exceed the 
others in the beauty of its workmanship , but 
the rest contain no particulars worthy of de- 
scription. 

Each pyramid has its catacombs ( grottos 
or subterraneous cavities for the burial of tho 
mummies , or embalmed bodies ) The ope- 
ning at the side is hollowed in such a de- 
clined direction , that a person cannot descend 
into it, without being let down by a rope. 

Execution de Marie , reine d'Ecosse j son 
caractere* 

The earls of Shrewsbury and Kent , being 
introduced to Mary , told her to prepare for 
death next morning at eight o'clock. She 
seem'd not terrified , though somewhat sur- 
prised , with the intelligence. She said , with 
a cheerful, and even a smiling countenance, 

K 4 



(224 ) 
that she did not think the queen her sister 3 
whould have consented to her death , or have 
executed the sentence against a person who 
not subject to the laws and jurisdiction of 
England. « But as such is her will , » said she 
4 death, which puts an end to all my mise- 
ries , shall be to me most welcome ; nor caa 
1 esteem that soul worthy the felicities of 
heaven , which cannot support the body un- 
der the horrors of the last passage to these 
blissful mansions. » She then requested the 
two noblemen that they would permit some 
of her servants , and particularly her con- 
fessor , to attend her : but they told her , 
that compliance with this last demand was 
contrary to their conscience , and that Dr. 
Fletcher , dean of Peterborough , a man of 
great learning , should be present , to instruct 
her in the principles of true religion. Her re- 
fusal to have any conference with this divine , 
inflamed the earl of Kent's zeal ; and he bluntly 
told her , that her death would be the life of 
their religion ; as on the contrary , her life 
would have been the death of it. Mention 
being made of Babington , she constantly de- 
nied his conspiracy to have been at all known 
to her j and the revenge of her wrong , she 
resigned into the hands of the Almighty. 

When the earls had left her , she ordered 
supper to be hastened , that she might have 
the more leisure to finish the few affairs , 
which remained to her in this world , and 



( 225 ) 

to prepare for her passage to another. It was 
necessary for her , she said , to take some 
sustenance , lest a failure of her bodily strength 
should depress her spirits on the morrow, and 
lest her behaviour should thereby betray a 
weakness unworthy of herself. She supped 
sparingly , as her manner usually was ; and 
her wonted chearfuluess did not even desert 
her on this occasion. She comforted her ser- 
vants under the affliction which overwhelmed 
them , and which was too powerful for them 
to conceal from her. Turning to Burgoin , 
her physician , she asked him , whether he 
did not remark the great and invincible force 
of truth. « They pretend , » said she , « that 
I must die , because I conspired against the 
queen's life : but the earl of Kent avowed 9 
that there was no other cause of my death, but 
the apprehensions , which , if I should live , 
they entertain for their religion. My constancy 
in the faith is my real crime : the rest is only 
a colour , invented by interested and designing 
men. » Towards the end of supper she called 
in all her servants , and drank to them : they 
pledged her , in order on their knees ; and 
craved her pardon for any past neglect of 
their duty : 3ke deigned , in return , to ask 
their pardon for her offences towards them $ 
and a plentiful effusion or tears attended this 
last solemn farewel , and exchange of mutual 
forgiveness. 

Her care of her servants was the sole re- 

K 5 



( 226 ) 

maining affair , which employed her concern 
in this world. She perused her will , in which 
she had provided for them by legacies : she 
ordered the inventory of her goods , cloaths , 
and jewels to be brought her j and she wrote 
down the names of those to whom she be- 
queathed each particular : to some she distri- 
buted money with her own hands ; and she 
adapted the recompense to their different de- 
grees of rank and merit. She wrote also letters 
of recommendation for her servants to the 
French King, and tho her cousin the duque 
of Guise , whom she made the chief executor 
of her testament. At her wonted time she went 
to bed , slept some hours , and then rising ^ 
spent the rest of the night in prayer. Having 
foreseen the difficulties of exercising the rites 
of her religion , she had had the precaution 
to obtain a consecrated hoste from the hands 
of Pope Pius , and she had reserved the use of 
it , for this last period of her life. By this ex- 
pedient she supplied , as much as she could , 
the want of a priest and confessor , who was 
refused her. 

Towards the morning she dressed herself 
in a rich habit of silk and velvet , the only 
one which she had reserved to herself. She 
told her maids , that se would willingly have 
left them this dress rather than the plain garb 
which she wore the day before : but it was 
necessary for her to appear at the ensuing 
solemnity in a decent habit. 



( «7 ) 

Thomas Andrews , sheriff of the county 
entered the room , and informed her , that tho 
hour was come , and that he must attend her 
to the place of execution. She replied , that 
she was ready ; and bidding adieu to her ser- 
vants, she leaned on two of Sir Amias Paulet's 
guards , because of an infirmity in her limbs; 
and she followed the sheriff with a serene and 
composed aspect. In passing through a hall 
adjoining to her chamber ,she was met by the 
earls of Shrewsbury and Kent. Sir Amias Pau- 
let , Sir Drue Drury , and many other gentle- 
men of distinction. There she also found Sir 
Andrew Melvil , her steward , who flung 
himself on his knees before her : and wrin- 
ging his hands , cried aloud : « ah ! Madam ! 
unhappy me ! what man was ewer before the 
messenger of such heavy tidings as I must 
carry, when I shall return to my native coun- 
try , and shall report , that I saw my gracious 
queen and mistress beheaded in England I » 
His tears prevented further speech ; and Mary 
too felt herself moved , more from sympathy 
than affliction. « Cease , my good servant , » 
said she , « cease to lament : thou hast cause 
rather to rejoice than to mum : for now shalt 
thou see the troubles of Mary Stuart receive 
their long expected period and completion. » 
Know continued she , « good servant , that 
all the world at best is vanity , and subject 
still to more sorrow than a whole ocean of 
tears is able to bewail. But I pray thee , carry 

Ktj 



( 228 ) 

this message from me , that I die a true wo- 
man to my religion , and unalterable in my 
affections to Scotland and to France. Heaven 
forgive them , that have long desired my 
end , and have thirsted for my blood , as 
the hart panteth after the water brooks. » 
O God ! added she r « thou that art the author 
of truth , and truth- iself , thou knowest the 
inmost recesses of my heart : thou knowest t 
that I was ever desirous to preserve an entire 
union between Scotland and England , and 
to obviate the source of all these fatal dis- 
cords. But recommend me , Melvil , to my 
son , and tell him , that notwithstanding all 
my distresses , I have done nothing prejudi- 
cial to the state and kingdom of Scotland. » 
After these words , reclining herself ,. with 
weeping eyes , and face bedewed with tears , 
she kissed him. « And so , » said she , « good 
Melvil, farewel; once again, farewel good 
Melvil > and grant the assistance of thy pra- 
yers to thy queen and mistress. » 

She then turned to the noblemen who atten- 
ded her, and made a petition in behalf of her 
servants , that they might be well treated , 
that they might be allowed to enjoy the pre- 
sents which she had made them r and be sent 
safely into their own country. Having recei- 
ved a favourable answer, she moved another 
request , that they might be permitted to attend 
at her death : in order , said she , that their 
®y$s may behold , and their hearts bear wit- 



( 229 ) 
ness , how patiently their queen and mistress 
can bear her execution , and how constantly 
she perseveres in her attachements to her reli- 
gion. The earl of Kent opposed this desire , 
and told her , that they woul be apt , by their 
speeches and cries , both to disturb herself and 
spectators : he was also apprehensive y lest 
they should practise somme superstition . un- 
meet for him to suffer ; such as dipping their 
handkerchiefs in her blood: for that was the- 
instance which he made use of, « M v lord , » 
said the queen of Scots , « I will give my 
word ( although it be but dead) that they shall 
. not incur any blame in any of the actions 
which you have named. But alas ! poor souls , 
it would be a great consolation to them , to 
bid their mistress farewel. » And I hope , ad- 
ded she , « that your mistress being a maiden 
queen , would vouchafe , in regard of wo- 
manhood, that I should have some of my own 
people about me at my death ; I know , that 
her majesty hath not given you any such strict 
command, but that you may grant me a re- 
quest of far greater courtesy , even though I 
were a woman of much inferior rank to that 
which i bear. » Finding that the sari of Kent 
persisted still in his refusal , her mind , which 
had fortified itself against the terrofs of death , 
was affected by this circumstance of indignity , 
for which she was not prepared. « I am cou- 
sin to your queen , » ciied she , and descended 
from the blood-royal of Henry the s^enlb* 



( 23o ) 
and married queen of France , and an anoin- 
ted queen of Scotland. » The commissioners 
perceiving how invidious their obstinacy 
would appear , conferred a little together , 
and agreed , that she might carry a few of 
her servants along with her. She made choice 
of four men , and two maid-servants , for that 
purpose. 

She then passed in another hall , where wa3 
erected the scaffold , covered with black ; and 
she saw with an undismayed countenance , 
the two executioners, and all the preparations 
of death. The room was crowded with spec- 
tators , and no one was so steeled against all 
sentiments of humanity , as not to be moved , 
when he reflected on her royal dignity , con- 
sidered the surprising train of her misfortu- 
nes , beheld her mild but inflexible constancy, 
recalled her amiable accomplishments , or 
surveyed her beauties , which tough faded by 
years , and yet more by her afflictions , still 
discovered themselves in this fatal moment. 
Her warrant for her execution was read to 
her ; and during this ceremony she was silent , 
but shewed in her behaviour , an indifference 
and unconcern , as if the business had no wise 
regarded her. Before the executioners perfor- 
med their office , the dean of Peterborough 
stepped forth ; and though the queen fre- 
quently told him , that he needed not concern 
himself about her , that she was settled in the 
ancient Catholic and Roman religion , and 



( 23l ) 

that she meant to lay down her life in defence 
of that faith j he still thought it his duty to 
persist in his lectures and his exhortations , 
aud to endeavour her conversion. The terms 
which he employed , were , under colour of 
pious instructions , very cruel insults on her 
unfortunate situation ; and , besides their own 
absurdity may be regarded as the most mor- 
tifying indignities , to which she was ever yet 
exposed. He told her ? that the queen of Eng- 
land had in this moment shewn a tender care 
of her j and notwithstanding te punishment 
justly to be inflicted on her , for her manifold 
trespasses , was determined to use every ex- 
pedient for saving her soul from that destruc- 
tion with which it was so nearly threatened i 
that she was now standing upon the brink of 
eternity , and had no other means of escaping 
endless perdition , but by repenting herself of 
her former wickedness , by justifying the sen- 
tence pronunced against her y by acknowled- 
ging the queen's favours, and by exerting a 
true and lively faith in Christ Jesus : that the 
scriptures were the only rule of doctrine, the 
merits of Christ the only means of salvation , 
and , if she trusted in the inventions or devices 
of men , she must expect in a moment to fall 
into utter darkness , into a place where shall 
be weeping , howlitig and gnashiug of teeth : 
that the hand of death was upon her , the ax 
was laid to the root of the tree , the throne 
©f the great judge of heaven was erected 3 the 



( 232 ) 

book of her live was spread wide , and the 
particular sentence and judgement was ready 
to be pronounced upon her : and that it was 
now during this important moment , in hep 
choice , either to rise the resurrection of life , 
and hear that joyful salutation : Come , ye 
blessed of my Father 5 or to share the resurrec- 
tion of condemnation , replete with sorrow 
and grief; and to suffer that dreadful denun- 
ciation , Go, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, 
During this discourse the queen could not 
forbear sometimes betraying her impatience ? 
by interrupting the preacher - 9 and the dean , 
finding that he profited nothing by his lec- 
ture , at last bid her change her opinion , re- 
pent her of her former wickedness , and settle 
her fait upon this ground , that only in Christ 
Jesus could she hope to be saved. She ans- 
wered , again and again T with great earnest- 
ness : « trouble not yourself any more about 
the matter : for I was born in this religion , 
I have lived in this religion , and in this reli- 
gion I am resolved to die. » Even the two 
earls perceived , that it was fruitless to harrass 
her any further wilh theological disputes , 
and they ordered the dean to desist from his 
unseasonable exhortations , and to pray for 
her conversion. During the deau's prayer , 
slie employed herself in private devotion from 
the office of the Virgin ; and after he had 
finished , she pronounced aloud some peti- 
tions in English, for ths afflicted church, £or 



( 233' ) 
an end of her own troubles , for her son , and 
for queen Elisabeth ; and prayed God , that 
the princess might long prosper , and be em- 
ployed in his service. The earl of Kent obser- 
ving that in her devotions she made frequent 
use of the crucifix , could not forbear repro- 
ving her , for her attachment to that popish 
trumpery , as he termed it ; and he exhorted 
her to have Christ in her heart , and not in her 
hand. She replied wiih presence of mind , 
that it was difficult to hold such an object in 
her hand without feeling her heart touched 
with some compunction. 

She now began , with the aid of her two 
wom3n , to disrobe herself; and the execu- 
tioner also lent his hand , to assist them. She 
smiled , and said , that she was not accusto- 
med to undress herself before so large a com- 
pany , nor to be served by such valets. Her 
servants , seeing her in this condition , ready 
to lay her head upon the block , burst into 
tears and lamentations : she turned about to 
them ; put her finger upon her lips , as a sign 
of imposing silence upon them ; and having 
given them her blessing , desired them to pray 
for her. One of her maids, whom she had 
appointed for that purpose , covered her eyes 
with a handkerchief ; she laid herself down, 
without any sign of fear or trepidation; and 
her head was severed from her body at two 
strokes by the executioner. He instantly held 
it up to the spectators ? streaming with blood 



( 234 ) 

and agitated with the convulsions of death : 
the dean of Peterborough alone exclaimed : 
« So perish all queen Elizabeth's enemies : » 
the earl of Kent alone replied , « Amen : » 
the attention of all the other spectators was 
fixed on the melancholy scene before them j 
and zeal and flattery alike , gave place to 
present pity and admiration of the expiring 
princess. 

Thus died , ( 1687) in the forty- fifth year 
of her age, and the nineteenth of her captivity 
in England 7 Mary Queen of Scots ; a prin- 
cess of great accomplishments , both of body 
and mind , natural as well as acquired ; but 
unfortunate in her life , and during one period , 
very nnhappy in her condnct. The beauties 
of her air , combined to make her the most 
amiable of women , and the charms of her 
adress and conversation , aided the impression 
which her lovely figure made on the hearts 
of all beholders. Ambitious and active in her 
temper , yet inclined to chearfulness and so- 
ciety j of a lofty spirit , constant and even 
vehement in her purpose ; yet polite , and 
gentle , and affable in her demeanor ; she 
seemed to partake only so much of the male 
virtues as to render her estimable , without 
relinquishing those soft graces which compose 
the proper ornaments of her sex. In order to 
form a just idea of her character , we must set 
aside one part of her conduct , while she 
abandonned herself to the guidance of aprofli- 



/ 



( 235 ) 

gate man , and must consider these faults , 
whether we admit them to be imprudences 
or crimes , as the result of an inexplicable , 
though not uncommon inconstancy in the 
human mind , of the frailty of our nature , of 
the violence of passion , and of the influence , 
which situations , and sometimes momentary 
incidents have on persons , whose princi- 
ples are not thoroughly confirmed by expe- 
rience and reflexion. Enraged by the ungra- 
teful conduct of her husband , seduced by 
the treacherous counsels of one in whom she 
reposed confidence , transported by the vio- 
lence of her own temper , which never lay 
sufficieutly under the guidance of discretion $ 
she was betrayed into actions , which 
may , with some difficulty be accounted 
for , but which admit of no apology , nor 
even of alleviation. An enumeration of 
her qualities might carry the appearance of 
a panegyric , an account of her conduct must 
in some parts , wear the aspect of a severe 
satire and invective. 

Her numerous misfortunes , the solitude of 
her long and tedious captivity , and the per- 
secutions to which she had been exposed on 
account of her religion , had wrought her up 
to a degree of bigotry during her latter years ; 
and such was the prevalent spirit and princi- 
ples of that age , that it is the less wonder , 
if her zeal , her resentment , and her inte- 
rest uniting, induced her te give consent to a 



( 236 ) 
design , which conspirators , actnated only 
by the first of these motives , had formed 
against the life of Elizabeth. Mulllr. 

Conquete du Mexique. 

The great and extensive empire of Mexico 
was under the sole government of its own 
monarchs , till the Spaniards , under the com- 
mand of Fernando Cortez , invaded , and con- 
quered it. This expedition was undertaken 
with only 5o8 foot , 16 troopers and 108 
seamen. Cortez with his forces landed on the 
coast of the bay of Campeachy , and having 
dispersed the natives with his artillery , mar- 
ched to the city of Tobasco , which he seized 
upon. The next day ihe Indians assembled an 
army of 4o,ooo men , with which they at- 
tacked the Spaniards ; but Cortez , at the head 
of the horse attacking them in the flank , 
they retired. The day after the battle the ca- 
cique , or prince , sent a solemn embassy to 
Cortez , to implore peace , attended with a 
present of such fruits and provisions as his 
country afforded , together with jewels , plu- 
mes and painted cotton linen , and whatever 
he thought most acceptable to the conquerors. 
The ambassadors approached Cortez as they 
used to do their gods , with golden pads or 
censers , in which they burnt aromatic gums , 
and other incense : the cacique afterwards 
came in person , and made his submission , 



( 23 7 ) 
bringing him 20 bountiful Indian virgins 9 
which he made Cortez a present of. One of 
these , whom the general afterwards caused 
to be baptized by the name of Donna Marina , 
served him , during the whole expedition , 
in the double capacity of concubine and in- 
terpreter , for she was a native of Mexico , 
a female of ready w T it , and understood the 
customs of the country , and the language 
perfectly well ; and indeed to her merit and 
address the Spaniards ascribe the success of 
their arms in a great measure. When the ca- 
cique of Tobasco camo to make his submis- 
sion , Cortez let him know , that he came 
from a powerful prince ; and that his princi- 
pal view was to make them all happy in this 
worih and the next , by making them sub' 
jects of the same sovereign , and converting 
them to the true religion. To this the frighted 
cacique answered , that he and his people 
should think themselves happy in obeying a 
king whose power and greatness appeared to 
such advantage in the valour of his subjects : 
but as to the point of religion , he gawe very 
little hopes of their conversion. 

Cortez , being about to advance still farther 
with his fleet on the Mexican coast , was un- 
der the greatest concern that he must leave 
those people before he had fully instructed 
them in the Catholic religion ; and on Palm 
Sunday, the day he appointed to embaik 
his troops he first caused an altar to be erec- 



( 238 ) 
fed in the open field , where he celebrated 
high mass in the presence of the Indians , and 
all his troops marched in their ranks to the 
altar , with boughs or palms in their hands 7 
to celebrate that festival : the procession see- 
med to excite to the natives the utmost awe 
and reverence , insomuch that some of them 
cried out* M This must be a great God , that 
such brave men adore. u Cortez sailed to the 
port of St. John de Ulva , where he landed , 
and Donna Marina acted as interpreter. When 
the general was informed that Montezuma , 
the emperor of Mexico , had sent to know 
the reason of the Spaniards invading his coun- 
try , he answered ambiguously , but still pre- 
served his design of penetrating iuto the coun- 
try. Montezuma, in all his messages , tried to 
prevent the Spaniards from coming to Mexico 9 
and Cortez as inflexibly persisted in thatintent. 

Cortez foresaw that the Mexicans would 
not be able to prevent his approaching Mexico, 
especially as he was joined, about this time, 
by a cacique, or prince of the country , named 
Zempoala , who offered to enter into un alli- 
ance with Cortez against Montezuma , whom 
he represented as a cruel tyrant and oppressor. 

The cacique furnished him with 400 men 
to carry his baggage , and others to draw his 
artillery , there not being any beasts in this 
part of the country fit to di\^w carriages ; but 
every thing of this kind was done by the 
strength of men* 



( 2 3g ) 
The general continuing his march by the 
seacoast to Vera Cruz , was joined there by 
about 3o caciques from the mountains , who 
re-inforced his troops with 100,000 men ; 
and some parties of Europeans hearing of the 
success of Cortez also voluntarily followed 
him thither , and joined his troops : whereu- 
pon he became so confident of his success , 
that he burnt all his ships , and having for- 
tified Vera Cruz , in which he left a small 
garrison , he began his march directly for the 
city of Mexico , being joined by the people 
of Tlascala , a country of great extent , who 
offered to become subjects of the king of 
Spain , at which Montezuma was so alarmed , 
that he offered to pay the Spaniards an annual 
tribute, amounting to one half of his reve- 
nues ; and when he found it;in vain to oppose 
the general's march , he thought fit to give 
him an invitation to his capital ; but Cortez , 
who was determined to have file plunder of 
the capital city , pretended that the Mexi- 
cans were not sincere in their invitation , but 
had entered into conspiracy to surprize the 
Spaniards , when they had drawn them into 
an ambuscade, and massacre them > and the- 
refore , immediately began hostilities , and cut 
to pieces some thousands of Montezuma's sub- 
jects. 

After this , the Spaniards , continuingi their 
march , were attended by several other caci- 
ques , and lords of the country , who com- 



( 240 ) 

plained of the intolerable oppressions of Mon- 
tezuma; telling Cortez, that they looked upon 
him as their deliverer , sent from heaven , to 
restrain and punish the injustice and cruelty 
of tyrants : to whom he promised his pro- 
tection , and drawing near to Mexico , in 
order to strike the greater terror into the na- 
tives , he ordered his artillery , and small 
arms to be dtscharged , and caused several In- 
dians to be shot , that approached too near 
his quarters , w x hile he lay encamped at Ame- 
meca , on the borders of the Mexican lake. 

Here prince Cacumatzin , the nephew of 
Montezuma , attended by the Mexican nobi- 
lity , camo to the general , and bid him wel- 
come ; assuring him that he would meet with 
a very kind and honourable reception from 
the emperor ; but intimated , that there ha- 
ving been lately a great scarcity of provisions 
in the city of Mexico , occasioned by unsea- 
sonable weather , they could not accommo- 
date them as they desired ; and , therefore , 
entreated he woulhd defer his entrance into 
that capital , if he did not thiuk fit entirely to 
decline going thither. But Cortez appearing 
determined to advance , the prince seemed 
to acquiesce ; and the preparations for the re- 
ception of the Spaniards were continued. 

Cortez being arrived at Quitlavaca , a city 
situated on an islaud in the great lake , five 
or six leagues from Mexico , had some ap- 
prehensions that the Mexicans would break 

down 



( 241 ) 
down the causeway , and remove the bridges 
on it j which would very much have embar- 
rassed him , because he could neither have 
advanced or retired in that case , especially 
with his horse and artillery. But the cacique 
of Quitlavaca , who appeared to be a friend 
of the Spaniards , very much encouraged th® 
general , telling him , he had nothing to fear ; 
that the prodigies in the heavens , the ans- 
wers ofthe oracles, and the fame of the great 
actions and surprizing arms of the Spaniards , 
had perfectly dispirited their emperor , and 
disposed him to submit to whatever the gene- 
ral should impose on him. 

Soon after Cortez entered Mexico , at the 
head of 45o Spaniards , and 6000 Tlascalans | 
when they were met by Montezuma himself , 
who was brought in a chair of beaten gold,, 
on the shoulders of his favourite courtiers. 

The conference between the emperor and 
the general was short , their speeches were 
suitable to the occasion , and the emperor 
commanded one ofthe princes , his relation , 
to conduct the general to the palace assigned 
for his residence , and then returned to his 
own palace. 

It was about noon that the Spaniards were 
brought to the royal house appointed for their 
reception , which was so spacious , as to con- 
tain all the Europeans and their auxiliaires : 
it had thick stone walls , flanked with to- 
wers : the roof of the palace was flat 9 and 

L 



( 242 ) 

defended by battlements and breast-work | 
insomuch , that when the general had plan- 
ted his artillery , and placed his guards , it 
had very much the appearance of a fortress. 

Hither Montezuma came the same evening , 
and was received by Cortez in the principal 
square of the palace ; and that monarch having 
entered the room of state , and seated himself, 
ordered a chair for Cortez , and a signal was 
made for his courtiers to retire to the wall : 
whereupon the Spanish officers did the same ; 
and Cortez being about to begin his speech by 
his interpreters , Montezuma prevented him 5 
by speaking as follows : 

« Illustrious and valiant stranger ! Before 
you disclose the important message , the great 
monarch you came from has given you in 
command , it is necessary some allowance be 
made for what fame has reported of us on 
either side. You may have been informed by 
some , that I am one of the immortal gods j 
that my wealth is immensely great , and my 
palaces covered w r ith gold : and on the other 
hand , you may have heard that I am tyran- 
nical , proud and cruel. But both the one and 
the other have equally imposed upon you : 
you see I am a mortal of the same species 
with other men ; and though my riches are 
considerable , my vassals make them much 
more than they are ; and you find that the 
walls of my palaces are nothing more than 
plain lime and stone. In like manner , no 



( 243 ) 
doubt , has the seventy of my government 
been magnified ; but suspend your judgment 
of the whole, till you have an opportunity 
of informing yourself concerning it ; and you 
will find that what my rebellious subjects 
call oppression , is nothing more than the ne- 
cessary execution of justice. 

« After the same manner have your actions 
been represented to us : some speak of you as 
gods ; affirming that the wild beasts obey you : 
that you grasp the thunder in your hands , and 
command the elements , while others assure 
me , you are wicked , revengeful , proud , 
and transported with an insatiable thirst after 
the gold our country produces. 

s> I am now sensible ye are of the same 
composition and form as other men , and 
distiuguishedfrom us only by accidents which 
the difference of countries occasions. 

>> These beasts ( horses ) that obey you f 
are probably, a large species of deer, that 
you have tamed and bred up in such imper- 
fect knowledge as may be attained by ani- 
mals : your arms are made of a metal, indeed ? 
unknown to us , and the fire you discharge 
from them , with such an astonishing sound 9 
may be some secret taught by your magicians. 
As to your actions , my ambassadors and ser- 
vants inform me , that you are pious , cour- 
teous, and governed by reason : that you bear 
hardships with patience and cheerfulness 9 
and are rather liberal than covetous so that 

L 2 



(244) 

we must, on both sides , lay aside our preju- 
dices and prepossession , and rely only on 
what our eyes and experience teach us » 

To this the general answered , a That it 
was true , various were the reports they had 
heard : some endeavoured to defame and 
asperse him , while others adored him. But 
the Spaniards , who were endowed with a 
penetrating spirit , easily saw through the 
different colours of discourse , and the deceit 
of the heart that they neither gave gredit to 
his rebellious subjects , or those that flattered 
him ; but came in his presence , assured that 
he was a great prince , and a friend to reason ; 
but very well satisfied , however , that he 
was a mortal , as they themselves were 5 that 
the beasts which obeyed him were not deer , 
but fierce and genejous animals , inclined to 
war , and seemed to aspire after the same 
glory as their masters. That their firearms 
were , indeed , the effect of human industry, 
and owed nothing to the skill of the magi- 
cian , whose arts were abominated by the 
Spaniards. » 

Having thus given some answer to the em- 
peror's speech , Cortez proceeded to inform 
him , « That he came ambassador from the 
most potent monarch under the sun , to desire 
his friendship and alliance : that there might 
be a communication and intercourse between 
their respective dominions ; and by that 
means , the Christians might have an oppor- 



( ^4" ) 

iunity of convincing them of their errors , and, 
instead of blocks of wood , ( the works of 
men's hands ) instruct them to worship and 
adore the true God , the creator of the whole 
universe. That this was the first and principal 
thing fhe king his master commanded him to 
insist on , as the most likely means of esta- 
blishing a lasting amily ; that being united in 
principles of religion , their alliance might 
become indissoluble. » 

Montezuma replied , that « he accepted 
the alliance proposed by the king of Spain ; 
but as to the overture concerning religion, 
he totally objected to it ; » and making Cortez 
a rich present , returned to his palace. 

Cortez continued, for some time , very in- 
timate with Montezuma , often visiting the 
Mexican court ; and that monarch frequently 
came to the Spanish quarters , making pre- 
sents to the general , and to his officers and 
soldiers , exhibiting shews and entertaiments 
for their diversion. The Mexicans still treated 
the Spaniards with a respect that savoured of 
great humility and condescension. Monte- 
zuma spoke of their king with the greatest 
veneration. His nobility paid a profound res- 
pect to the Spanish officers , and the people 
bowed the knee to the meanest Spanish sol- 
dier. But an accident happened which very 
much lessened the esteem , or rather dread , 
the Mexicans at first entertained of these 
foreigners. 

L5 



( M6 ) * 

One of the emperor's generals , levying the? 
annual tax imposed on the vassal princes in 
that part of the countny , which lay in the 
neighbourhood of the Spanish garrison of 
Vera Cruz , these caciques , who had thrown 
©ff their subjection to the Mexican empire , 
and entered into an alliance with -the Spa- 
niards , applied themselves to John de Esca- 
lante , governor of Vera Cruz , for protec- 
tion ; who thereupon marched out of that 
fortress , with 4 Q Spaniards , and 5 or 4«oo 
confederate Indians, to their assistance ; and 
though he had the good forrune of defeat the 
Mexican general , yet one of the Spaniards 
was killed, and his head sent up to the court 5 
and the governor , with five , or six more of 
his garrison , were mortally wounded. This 
neyys being brought to Cortez , gave him grea£ 
uneasiness ; and the more , because he was 
informed , by the confederate Indians , that 
the Mexicans were consulting how to drive 
him out of their territories , which they did 
not apprehend to be impraticable since the 
engagement near Vera Cruz. 

The Spanish general , therefore , finding it 
impossible to maintain his authority among 
the Indians any longer, without entering on 
some action that might give them fresh cause 
of astonishment 9 and recover that reputation 
they seemed to have lost by that unfortunate 
accident , resolved to seize the person of Mon- 
tezuma , and bring him prisoner to his quar- 



( 247 ) 

ters ; and accordingly , at an hour when the 
Spaniards were used to pay their court to 
that prince , Cortez , having given orders for 
his men to arm themselves without noise , and 
possess themselves of all the avenues leading 
to the palace , in small parties , that no no- 
tice might be taken of it , went to the Mexican 
court , attended by several of his officers , 
and 5o soldiers , whose resolution he could 
rely on , ftnd being admitted to the emperor's 
presence , he complained of the violation of 
the peace between them , hy one of the 
Mexican generals falling upon his confede- 
rates , and afterwards killing a Spaniard he 
had taken in cold blood. To which Monte- 
zuma answered , « That if any thing of that 
nature had been done , it was without his or- 
ders j and he was ready to make satisfaction 
for any injury that might have been done 
undesignedly , either to the Spaniards or their 
allies. » But Cortez gave him to understand, 
that nothing would satisfy them but his sur- 
rendering himself into their hands , and resi- 
ding with them in the palace assigned to the 
Spaniards for their quarters. 

Montezuma at first seemed astonished at the 
insolent demand , and remained for some time 
silent ; but recovering from his surprize , he 
said that princes of his rank were not accu- 
stomed to yield themselves up to a prison ; 
nor would his subjects permit this , even if 
he should forget his dignity so far. Cortez an- 

L 4 



( 248 ) 
swered , « if he would go along with them 
voluntarily , they were not afraid of any op- 
position his subjects should make ; and they 
would treat him with all the regard due to 
his dignity : lie might continue to exercise his 
authority as formerly, and no restraint should 
be put on his actions ; only for their security , 
he insisted that the emperor should reside 
amongst them. » Montezuma , still refusing 
to put himself into their hands , was given 
to understand , that if he would not , they 
would carry him off by force , or murder 
him if they were opposed ; whereupon he 
submitted to do what he found it was im- 
possible to avoid ; and gave orders to his 
officers to prepare for his removal to the 
Spanish quarters , whither he went in the 
usual state and voluntarily , to all appea- 
rance , except that he was attended by a 
company of Spaniards , who surrounded his 
chair. 

Montezuma , as must be easily supposed, , 
was rendered very miserable by this indi- 
gnity ; and his servants, lamenting their em- 
peror's hard fate , threw themselves at his 
feet , endeavouring to ease him of the weight 
of his fetters $ and though when he recovered 
from his first amazement , he began to express 
some impatience , yet, correcting himself, he 
acquiesced in his misfortunes , and waited the 
event ? not without apprehensions that there 
was a design against his lite : but Cortex 



( *49 ) 

having seen his plan performed , by which 
he found he had struck such a terror into the 
Mexicans , that little was to be feared from 
them , he returned to Montezuma's apartment, 
and ordered his fetters to be taken oft ; and 
as some writers relate , he fell on his knees , 
and took them off with his own hands ; for 
which favour the emperor embraced and 
thanked him. But what is still more difficult 
to be believed , they assure us , that Cortei 
gave the emperor leave to return to his palace, 
and that he refused the offer out of regard to 
ihe Spaniards , telling them , he knew very 
well that as soon as he was put out of their 
power , his subjects vould press him to take 
up arms againts them , to revenge the wrongs 
he had suffered : nay , the Spanish historians 
positively affirm , that , notwithstanding all 
the injuries and indignities they had' offered 
to Montezuma , he expressed a more than 
ordinary friendship and regard for them , 
preferring their interest to that of his own 
subjects. 

De Solis , the Spanish historian 9 says, that 
Cortez gave Montezuma leave to go whiiher 
he pleased , which he seems to contradict in 
a very few lines afterwards : for he tells us , 
when that prince only desired to perform his 
devotions in one of his temples, it was gran- 
ted upon certain conditions , namely , that 
he should give his royal word to return to 
the Spanish ciuaters again , and from that day 

L5 



( 25o ) 
abolish human sacrifices $ and we make no 
doubt but they insisted on a third , viz. That 
he should take a guard of Spaniards with 
him ; for they acknowledge that a body of 
Spaniards actually attended him to the temple, 
Which they could do with no other view than 
that of securing their prisoner : though de 
Solis says indeed, it was at the request of 
Montezuma , that they went with him : nor 
did he ever go abroad without a Spanish 
guard , or without asking leave of Cortez ; 
or ever lay one night out of their quarters , 
by their own confession ; which they w^ould 
have us ascribe purely to choise , and his 
affection to the Spaniards , who had put such 
indignities upon him. They add that Cortez 
was now become his prime minister ; that 
$11 post of honour or profit were disposed 
of by him and his principal officers , who 
Were courted by the Mexican nobility, when 
they saw that no places or preferment could 
be had but by their interest ; which possibly 
might be true ; but surely it is much mure 
probable that Montezuma was influenced more 
by hk> fears than his affection for the Spa- 
niards. And we may observe from hence , 
that, with all these advantages , Cortez , and 
his Spaniards , might have established their 
poAver upon such a foundation , as could not 
easily have been overthrown , without such a 
deluge of blood as they spilt afterwards , if 
Cortez had been as able a politician as he was 



( *5i ) 

soldier ; or if his benevolence and humanity 
had exceeded his cruelty and avarice. 

He seems to have left scarce any means 
untried for his security and establishment but 
the principal , namely , gaining the affection 
of the Indians , and winning them over to 
his party, as wel as to the Christian religion, 
by acts of generosity and beneficence. He was 
so careful of himself, that he caused some 
brigantines to be built on the lake of Me- 
xico , wereby he intirely commanded the 
lake , and the causeways leading to the city, 
and at the same time he increased his reputa- 
tion with the Mexicans by the artful manage- 
ment of those vessels ; for the Indians were , 
at this time , ignorant of the use of sails and 
rudders. ^ 

Don Diego Velasques , governor of Cuba , 
being informed that Cortez had met with 
great success in Mexico , and was endeavou- 
ring to render himself independent of him , 
declared him a rebel , and send Pamphilio da 
Narvaez, with 800 men , to reduce him , and 
take upon him the command ot the Spanish 
forces in Mexico. Whereupon Cortez leaving 
a garrison in the city of Mexico , and confi- 
ning Montezuma there , marched to meet 
Narvaez his rival , surprised him in the night- 
time , made him prisoner , and so corrupted 
the officers of the troops that came over with 
Nervaez , by the rich presents he made them, 
that they agreed to join Cortez. Thus re-in- 

L6 



( aS 

forced , he returned to the city f Mexico* 
again and now imagining himself powerful 
enough to subdue that empire by force , with- 
out courting Montezuma or his subjects , hQ 
treated that Monarch with great contempt. 
But some of the Spanish historians observe ^ 
that in this he committed a very great error : 
for had the general , on his returning in. 
triumph with such an addition of forces ,. 
entered into a treaty with that emperor and 
his nobility , they wrould have yielded to al- 
most any terms ; and he might have gained 
the dominion of that empire , for the king, 
of Spain ^ his master <> without any blood- 
shed. But he was too much elated with suc- 
cess to think of pacific measures. On the con- 
trary , he resolved to give the Mexicans all 
manner of provocations , and even rendered 
them desperate, that he might have a colour 
to destroy them , and seize all their posses- 
sions , whether lands or treasure. He found 
a garrison of 80 Spaniards able to repel the 
whole force of Mexico ; and he did not doubt , 
now he saw himself at the head of 1 100 Spa- 
nish horse and foot r with a multitude of con-' 
federate Indians , he should be able by force ^ 
to reduce the Mexicans ,. and make slaves of 
them. But he was near paying very -dear for 
his presumpiion ; for sending out a detachment 
of 400 Spaniards and confederate Indians in 
search of the enemy r who were retired, to* 
iarihest prfcqf the city , they wexe §ui> 



( ^53 ) 
rounded , and in danger of having their re- 
treat cut off; and he himself , with the rest 
of his troops , very narrowly escaped being 
starved , or cut in pieces ; for the Mexicans , 
rendered brave by their despair , were not 
afraid to attack Cortezinhis quarters, though 
defended by a numerous garrison , and a train 
of artillery ; and when at any time , he- 
made a sally , he found intrenchments in the 
streets , and the bridges broken down , which 
rendered his cavalry , in a manner useless £ 
and though he usually came off victorious ? 
he found he had committed a very great error 
in shutting himself up in Mexico, from when- 
ce it was almost impossible to make his re- 
treat , and where he found it impracticable 
to fetch in provisions j the enemy being mas- 
ters of all the causeways that lead to the town t 
and of all the boats upon the lake ; so that 
if his people were not destroyed by the con- 
tinual attacks of the enemy , they must cer- 
tainly , in a short time be reduced by fa- 
mine. 

In this distress Cortez thought fit to endea- 
vour a reconciliation with Montezuma, and 
make use of the authority he still retained 
among his subjects , to induce them to lay- 
down their arms r and permit the Spaniards 
to march out of Mexico . , which,, it was pre- 
sumed , they would readily have come into , 
that they might get rid of a people; so much. 
dreaded , aa well as. hated % by them. Accox- 



(254) 

dingly , a parley being proposed and agreed 
to, Montezuma appeared on te battlements of 
the palace, and some of the Mexican nobi- 
lity advancing to hear what overtures he 
would make them , te Spaniards tell us , their 
emperor made a speech to his subjects , w T he- 
rein he greatly reprimanded them for taking 
up arms without his leave , though it was 
with an intention to obtain the liberty of their 
prince, declaring that he was, in reality, under 
no manner of restraint , but remained wih the 
Spaniards from choice j that he thought him- 
self obliged to shew the Spaniards this favour, 
on account of the respect they had always 
paid him, and out of duty to the prince that 
had sent them ; that their embassy being dis- 
patched , he was about to dismiss these fo- 
reigners from his court , and desired his sub- 
jects would lay down their arms , and not 
interupt their march, and he should readily 
pardon their having taken up arms , or to that 
effect. 

The Mexicans paid little regard to this 
speech. Whatever their emperor's words 
Were , they knew they wero put into his 
mouth by the Spaniards , whose prisoner he 
Was , and tended only to procure them a safe 
retreat ; and they were sensible , if they lost 
the advantage they had , they must never ex- 
pect such another opportunity of getting rid 
of these unwelcome guests. They had them 
now cooped up in this fortress ; where no 



( 255 ) 

relief could be brought them and from whence 
it was scarce possible for them to retreat , if 
the Mexicans broke down the bridges and 
causeways upon the lake, and made such dit- 
ches and trenches in the streets , as the Spani- 
ards themselves had taught them , but foresaw 
if ever their enemies got over the lake again, 
they might not only receive fresh re-inforce- 
ments from Spain and their Indian allies , but 
they must engage them to great disadvantage 
in their open country , having nothing to op- 
pose their horse and artillery. The Mexicans 
resolved therefore , not to consent to a ces- 
sation of arms , but rejected the overture with 
disdain , as being framed only to give their 
mortal enemies an opportunity of escaping 
out of their hands 5 and re-inforcing them- 
selves to the destruction of their country 5 and 
they were so enraged at the overture , that 
they shot at their emperor for making it to 
them , and mortally wounded him. 

Cortez finding the Mexicans were not to bo 
amused with insidious proposals, from what 
hand soever they came , that his provisions 
were almost spent , and that it would be im- 
practicable to make his retreat in the day- 
time , resolved to attempt in the dark night. 
Having divided the treasure , therefore 9 
amongst his men , w r ith which they were 
pretty well loaded , for it amounted to an im- 
mense sum , he issued out of his quarters at. 
midnight , the weather being extremely tern- 



( 256 ) 
pestuous , whereby his march was for some 
time concealed ; but he had not advanced a 
mile upon the causeway , before he found 
himself attacked on every side by the Mexi- 
cans both by land and water , the lacke being: 
filled with their canoes or boats ; and as they 
had broke down the bridges , and cut the 1 
cause-ways through , in several places , the 
Spaniards were in great danger of being enti- 
rely cut off. Cortez indeed ? had foreseen 
this , and provided a portable bridge to pass 
the breaches in the causeway , which was of 
great use to him in several places : but the 
Indians found means to destroy this bridge 
before they were all passed over , and their 
rear guard , consisting of 200 or 5oo Spa- 
niards , and 1000 confederate Indians , were 
cut in pieces. They also lost their artillery ,. 
prisoners , baggage , and treasure , with 46 
horses. Cortez , however , with the best part 
of his force, broke through the Indians, and 
escaped to the other side of the lake. Some 
impute this loss to the avarice of his soldiers $ 
who were so loaded with gold and silver r 
that they could scarce make use of their arms; 
and possibly there may be some truth in it j 
but we believe, every one who considers his 
circumstances , must be of opinion , that he 
was very fortunate in escaping so well. Had 
the enemy provided a body of forces to op- 
pose him on the further side of the lake , he 
must inevitably have perished. % but they di$ 



( 2 5 7 ) 

not expect his sallying out so suddenly , es- 
pecially in that tempestuous season , and were 
not therefore , provided to attak him. 

De Solis , the historian , endeavours to 
give us a very particular account of this ac- 
tion ; he admires the valour and conduct of 
Cortez and his officers , and informs us how 
every one distinguished himself in this memo- 
rable rereat. He proceeds to inform us, that 
they arrived just as it w r as day-light on firm 
land , and thought themselves very happy 
that there was no army to oppose ihem there , 
and that they were pursued no further , till 
they had time to form and recover them- 
selves from their consternation. 

This good fortune , it seems , w r as owing 
to the compassion the Mexicans expressed for 
the tw r o sons of Montezuma , and several 
princes of the royal blood , whom they found 
slaughtered among the Spaniards , w r hen ihe 
day-light appeared. The Mexicans relate that 
Montezuma himself was of this number ; and 
that the Spaniards murdered both him and his 
sons, when they found they could not carry 
them off. The Spaniards , on the other hand , 
say , that Montezuma was killed before by 
the arrows of the Mexicans : and that the 
princes , also , were accidentally killed in the 
engagement while it was dark , and they 
could not distinguish friends from foes. But 
however that was , it is agreed the princes 
ware found dead , pierced through with many 



( 2 58) 

Wounds ; and te Mexicans deferred the pursuit 
of the Spaniards , to solemnize the obsequies 
of those two princes, or of Montezuma him- 
self. To which piece of piety Cortez and the 
Spaniards who were left aliye , in a great 
measure , owed their safety. 

The Spaniards having halted some time to 
refresh themselves, and taken care of their 
wounded men, continued their march towards 
Tlascala , the country of their faithful allies 
and confederates : but they had not advanced 
many leagues before they were again overta- 
ken , and attacked by the Mexicans , at a 
time when they were so fatigued and haras- 
sed , that had not Cortez taken possession 
of a temple, that very fortunately lay in his 
way , he would have found it difficult to 
have repulsed the enemy. But the Mexicans , 
finding they could make no impression on the 
Spaniards , as they lay intrenched within 
those walls, thought fit to sound a retreat. 
However , Cortez apprehending he should be 
distressed here for want of provisions , began 
his march again at midnight , with great si- 
lence , in hopes to have got the start of the 
enemy so far , that he should have reached 
the Tlascalan territories before they could 
have overtaken him ; but , to his great sur- 
prize , being arrived on the top of a very 
high mountain , he discovered the whole for- 
ces of the Mexicans , consisting of 200,000 
inen , drawn up in battalia in the valley of 



(&9-) 

Otnmba , through which it was necessary fo 
pass r in his way to TIascala , whereupon 
Cortez made only this short speech to his 
officers , « We must either die or conquer ; » 
and finding an uncommon ardour in his sol- 
diers to engage , he immediately led them 
on. The fight was for some time bloody and 
obstinate ; and Cortez apprehending his men 
would be wearied out by the continual sup- 
plies of fresh forces , which the Indians pou- 
red in upon him , gave a surprising turn to 
the battle , by attacking the imperial standard, 
carried by the Mexican general , who was 
sourrounded by the nobility ; for having rou- 
ted them , killed the general , and taken the 
standard , the rest ot their troops turned their 
backs and fled , and were pursued with incre- 
dible slaughter by the Spaniards and their 
Indian allies , who made themselves ample 
amends with the spoils of the enemy , for the 
treasure they lost on retiring from the city of 
Mexico. 

Cortez now found it necessary to cultivate 
a good understanding with the caciques and 
princes of the country ? and to take their 
troops into his service ; and made himself 
master of such posts as might be of most ad- 
vantage to him reducing the city of Mexico $ 
and as he could not approach it by land , but 
on the causeways , he built i3 brigantines and 
sloops , whereby he became master of the 
navigation of the lake 9 and then attaked the 



( 260 ) 

town by water as well as on the land side, 
having about iooo Spaniards in his army , 
and 200,000 Indian allies. He took the city 
by storm on the i5 th of August , i52i. 

One hundred thousand Mexicans perished 
in defence of the city ; and this conquest was 
attended with the submission of most of the 
neighbouring provinces , who consented to 
acknowledge themselves subjects to the king 
of Spain , ( the then emperor Charles V. ) 

The city of Mexico being thus reduced , 
Cortez distributed the plunder among his 
soldiers , reserving only a fifth , with the 
most remarkable curiosities , for the king , 
which he sent to Spain by some of his prin- 
cipal officers , together with an account of 
his conquest , and the state of that country , 
desiring his majesty would confirm the ma- 
gistrates he had appointed to govern it , with 
the grants of the conquered lands , and In- 
dian slaves he had made , to his soldiers. 
Among the rich jewels Cortez sent to the 
emperor . it is said , there was a fine eme- 
rald , of a pyramidal form , as large as the 
palm of a man's hand at the biggest end ; a 
noble set of gold and silver vessels ; several 
things cast in gold and silver , viz. beasts , 
fishes, fruits , and flowers ; bracelets , rings , 
pendants and other ornamental pieces of 
plate and jewels; some of their idols, cotton 
vestments of their priests, furs, and feathers 
oi various colours. 



( 36i ) 

The general requested his imperial majesty 
to sent over persons qualified to survey the 
country , that it might be improved to the 
best advantage with the priests and missiona- 
ries for the conversion of the people ; as also 
cattle , with seeds and plants to improve 
the lands : but , it is said , he provided par- 
ticularly against the sending over physicians 
or lawyers. What could have been his reason 
against sending physicians is not easy to be 
conceived ; but he had certainly all the reason 
In the world to desire that neither laws or 
lawyers should be admitted there , having 
determined to treat the natives as slaves , and 
seize both their persons and possessions , 
and , indeed, to usurp an arbitrary dominion 
over both Spaniards and Indians in the New 
World. Mulleb. 

Portrait de la famille de Wakefield. 

I was ever of opinion that the honest man 
who married , and brought up a large family, 
did more service than he who continued single, 
and only talked of population. From this mo- 
tive , I had scarce taken orders a year , before 
I began to think seriously of matrimony , and 
chose my wife as she did her wedding-gow r n , 
not for a fine glossy surface, but such qualities 
as would wear well. To do her justice, she was 
a good-natured notable woman ; and 2 as for 



( 262 ) 

breeding , there were few country ladies who 
at that time rould shew more. She could read 
any English book Avithout much spelling; but 
for pickling, preserving , and cookery , none 
could excel her. She prided herself much also 
upon being an excellent contriver in house- 
keeping; yet I could never find that we grew 
richer with all her contrivances. 

However, we loved each other tenderly, and 
our fondness encreased with age. There was in 
fact nothing that could make us angry with 
the world or each other. We had an elegant 
house , situated in a fine country 9 and a good 
neighbourhood. The year was spent in a moral 
or rural amusement; in visiting our rich neigh- 
bours , and relieving such as were poor. We 
had no revolutions to fear , nor fatigues to 
undergo ; all our adventures were by the fire- 
side , and ail our migrations from the blue bed 
to the brown. 

As we lived near the road , w T e often had the 
traveller or stranger visit us to taste our goose- 
berry wine , for which we had great reputa- 
tion ; and I profess with the veracity of an 
historian , that I never knew one of them find 
fault with it. Our cousins too , even to the for- 
tieth remove , all remembered their affinity , 
without any help from the Herald's office, 
and came very frequently to see us. Some of 
them did us no great honour by these claims 
of kindred ; for, literally speaking , we had 
tfae lame , the blind , and the halt , amongst 



( 263 ) 

the number. However , my wife always insis- 
ted , that , as they were the same flesh and 
blood , they should sit with us at the same 
table. So that if we had not very rich , we 
generally had very happy friends about us ; 
for this remark will hold good through life , 
that the poorer the guest , the better pleased 
he ever is with being treated : and as some 
men gaze with admiration at the colours of a 
tulip , and others are smitten with the wing of 
a butterfly , so I was by nature an admirer of 
happy human faces. However, when any one 
of our relations w^as found to be a person of a 
very bad character , a troublesome guest , or 
one we desired to get rid of, upon his leaving 
my house for the first time ? I ever took care 
to lend him a riding-coat , or a pair of boots, 
or sometimes a horse of small value , and I 
always had the satisfaction of finding he ne- 
ver came back to return them. By this the 
house was cleared of such as we did not like ; 
but never was.the family of Wakefield known 
to turn the traveller or the poor dependant 
out of doors. 

Thus we lived several years in a state of 
much happiness ; not but that we sometimes 
had those little rubs which providenco sends to 
enhance the value of its favours. My orchard 
w r as often robbed hy schools - boys , and my 
wife's custards plundered by the cats or the 
children. The 'Squire vould sometimes fall 
asleep in the most pathetick parts of my ser- 



( 264 ) 

in on , or his lady return my wife's civilities 
at church with a mutilated curtesy. But we 
soon got over the uneasiness caused by such 
accidents , and usually in three or four days 
we began to wonder how they vext us. 

My children , the offspring of temperance , 
as they were educated without softness , so they 
were at once well formed and healthy ; my 
sons hardy and active , my daughters beau- 
tiful and blooming. When I stood in the midst 
of the little circle , which promised to be the 
supports of my declining age , I could not 
avoid repeating the famous story of Count 
Abensberg , w T ho , in Henri II's progress 
through Germany , while other courtiers 
came with their treasures brought his thirty 
two children , and presented them to his so- 
vereign as the most valuable offering he had 
to bestow. In this manner , though I had but 
six , 1 considered them as a very valuable 
present made to my country , and conse- 
quently looked upon it as my debtor. Our 
eldest son was named George , after his uncle , 
who left us ten thousand pounds. Our second 
child , a girl , I intended to call after her 
aunt, Grissel ; but my, wife , who during her 
pregnancy , bad been reading romances , in- 
sisted upon her being called Olivia. In less 
than another year we had a daughter again , 
and now I was de termined that Grissel should 
be her name j but a rich relation taking a fancy 
to stand godmother , the girl was , by her di- 
rections , 



< a65 ) 

nections , called Sophia : so that we had tw© 
romantick names in the family ; but I solem* 
nly protest I had no hand in it. Moses was 
our next > and , after aa interval of twelve 
years , we had two sons more. 

It would be fruitless to deny my exultation 
when I saw my little ones about me ; but the 
vanity and the satisfaction of my wife were 
even greater than mine. When our visitors 
would usually say : « Well , upon my word , 
Mrs. Primrose , you have the finest children in 
the whole country. » = « Ay , neighbour , she 
w r ould answer , they are as heaven made them , 
handsome enough , if they be good enough ; 
for handsome is , that handsome does. » And 
then she would bid the girls hold up their 
heads ; who , to conceal nothing , were cer- 
tainly very handsome. Mere outside is so very 
trifling a circumstance with me , that I should 
scarce have remembered to mention it 9 had it 
not been a general topick of conversation in 
the country , Olivia , now about eighteen , 
had that luxuriancy of beauty with which pain- 
ters generally draw Hebe ; open , sprightly , 
and commanding. Sophia's features were not 
so striking at first ; but often did more cer- 
tain execution , for they were soft , modest 9 
and alluring. The one vanquished by a sin- 
gle blow , the other by efforts successively- 
repeated. 

The temper of a woman is generally for- 
med from the turn of her features ; at least it 

M 



( 266 ) 
was so with my daughters. Olivia wished for 
many lovers ; Sophia to secure one. Olivia 
was often affected from too great a desire to 
please ; Sophia even represt excellence from 
her fears to offend. The one entertained me 
with her vivacity , when I was gay ; the 
other with her sense , when I was serious. 
But these qualities were never carried to ex- 
cess in either j and I have often seen them 
exchange caracters for a whole day together. 
A suit of mourning has transformed my co- 
quet into a prude 9 and a new set of ribbands 
has given her younger sister more than na- 
tural vivacity. My eldest son George was bred 
at Oxford , as I intended him for one of the 
learned professions. My second boy Moses , 
whom I designed for business , received a 
sort of miscellaneous education at home. But 
it would be needless to attempt describing 
the particular characters of young people that 
had seen but very little of the world. In short, 
a family likeness prevailed through all ; and, 
properly speaking , they had but one charac- 
ter , that of being fall equally generous , cre^ 
duious , simple , and inoffensive. 

Olivier Goldsmith. 

Malheur de la famille TVakejield. 

The temporal concerns of our family were 
chiefly committed to my wife's management ; 
as to the spiritual, I took them entirely un- 



( 26 7 ) 
der my own direction. The profits of my li- 
ving , which amounted to but thirty -five 
pounds a year , I gave to the orphans aud wi- 
dows of the clergy of our diocese ; for , ha- 
ving a sufficient fortune of my own , I was 
careless of temporalities , and felt a secret 
pleasure in doing my duty without reward. I 
also set a resolution of keeping no curate , 
and of being acquainted with every man in 
the parish, exhorting the married men to tem- 
perance , and fhe bachelors to matrimony : 
so that in a few years it was a common say- 
ing , that there were three strange wants at 
Wakefield , a parson wanting pride ^ young 
men wanting wives 9 and ale-houses wanting 
customers. 

Matrimony was always one of my favou- 
rite topicks , and I wrote several sermons to 
prove its utility and happiness : but there was 
a particular tenet which I made a point of 
supporting ; for I maintained with Whiston , 
that it was unlawful for a priest of the church 
of Englang , after the death of his first wife 9 
to take a secound ; or , to express it in one 
word , I valued my self upon being a strict 
monogamist. 

I was early initiated into this important 
dispute , on which so many laborious volu- 
mes have been written. I published some tracts, 
upon the subject myself, which , as they ne- 
ver sold , I have the consolation of thinking 
are read only by the happy Few. Some of my 

M2 



( 268 ) 
friends called this my weak side ; but alas ! 
they had not like me made it the subject of 
long contemplation. The more I reflected upon 
it , the more important it appeared. I even 
went a step beyond W histon in displaying my 
principles : as he had engraven upon his wife's 
tomb that she was the only wife of William 
Whiston , so I wrote a similar epitaph for 
my wife , though still living , in which I ex- 
tolled her prudence , (economy , and obe- 
dience till death ; and having got it copied 
fair , with an elegant frame , jt was placed 
over the chimney-piece , where it answered 
several very useful purposes. It admonished 
my wife of her duty to me , and my fidelity 
to her ; it inspired her with a passion for 
fame , and constantly put her in mind of her 
end. 

It was thus , perhaps , from hearing mar- 
riage so often recommended , that my eldest 
son , just upon leaving college , fixed his af- 
fections upon the daughter of a neigbouring 
clergyman , who w r as a dignitary in the 
church , and in circumstances to give her a 
large fortune : but fortune was her smallest 
accomplishment. Mis Arabella Wilmot was 
flowed by all , except my two daughters , 
to be completely pretty. Her youth , health , 
and innocence , were still heightened by a 
complexion so transparent , and such a happy 
sensibility of look, as even age could not gaze 
on with indifference. As. Mr. Wilmot knew 



( 26g ) 
that I could make a very handsome settlement 
on my son , he was not averse to the match; 
so both families lived together in all that har- 
mony which generally precedes an expected 
alliance. Being convinced , by experience , that 
the days ot courtship are the most happy of 
our lives , I was willing enough to lengthen 
the period; and the various amusements which 
the young couple every day shared in each 
Other's company seemed to encrease their pas- 
sion. We were generally awaked in the mor- 
ning by musick , and on fine days rode a limit- 
ing. The hours between breakfast and dinner 
the ladies devoted to dress and study : they 
usually read a page , and then gazed at them- 
selves in the glass, which even philosophers 
might own, often presented the page of great- 
est beauty. At dinner my wife took the lead ; 
for , as she always insisted upon carving every 
thing herself, it being her mother's way , she 
gave us upon these occasions the history of 
every dish. When we had dined, to prevent 
the ladies leaving us, I generally ordered the 
table to be removed ; and sometimes , with 
the musick-master's assistance , the girls would 
give us an agreeable concert. Walking out , 
drinking tea , country-danses , and forfeits , 
shortened the rest of the day , without the 
assistance of cards , as I hated all manner of 
gaming , except backgammon , at which my 
old friend and I sometimes took a two-penny 
hit. Nor can I here pass over an ominous cir- 

M 5 



( 270 ) 
cumstance that happened the last time we 
played together. I only wanted to fling a 
cjuatre , and yet I threw deuce ace five times 
runing. 

Some months were elapsed in this manner, 
till at last it was thought convenient to fix a 
day for the nuptials of the young couple, who 
seemed earnestly to desire it. During the pre- 
parations of the wedding , I need not describe 
the busy importance of my wife , nor the sly 
looks of my daughterr : in fact , my attention 
was fixed on another object > the completing 
a tract which I intended shortly to publish in 
defence of monogamy. As I looked upon this 
as a master-piece both for argument and style 9 
I could not in the pride of my heart avoid 
shewing it to my old friend Mr. Wilmot , as 
I made no doubt of receiving his approbation $ 
but too late 1 discovered that he was most 
violently attached to the contrary opinion , 
and with good reason , for he was at that time 
actually courting a fourth wife. This, as may 
he expected, produced a dispute attended with 
some acrimony , which threatened to inter- 
rupt our intended alliance : but , on the day 
before that appointed for the ceremony , we 
agreed to discuss the subject at large. 

It was managed with proper spirit on both 
sides : he asserted that I was heterodox , I 
retorted the charge : he replied , and I re- 
joined. In the mean time , while the contro- 
versy was hottest , I was called out by one of 



( ^71 ) 
My relations, who, with a face of concern , 
advised me to give up the dispute, and allow 
the old gentleman to be a husband , if he 
would, at least till my- son's wedding was 
over. «How , » cried I , « relinquish the cause 
of truth, and let him be a husband, already 
driven to the very verge of absurdity ! You 
might as well advise me to give up my for- 
tune as my argument. » z=z « That fortune , » 
replied my friend , « I am now sorry to in- 
inform you is almost nothing. Your mere-hand 
in town , in whose hands your money was 
hodged , has gone off, to avoid a statute of 
bankrupty , and it is thought has not left a 
shilling in the pound. I was unwilling to shock 
you or the family with the account till after 
the wedding : but now it may serve to mode- 
rate your wrath in the argument j for , I sup- 
pose , your own prudence will enforce the 
necessity of dissembling at least till your sou 
has the young lady's fortune secure. » =: 
4 Well , v> returned I , £ if wh%t J9 U JfrU P© 
be true , and if I am to be a beggar , it shall 
never make me a rascal , or induce me to dis- 
avow my principles. I'll go this moment and 
inform the company of my circumstances ; 
and , as for the argument , I even here retract 
my former concessions in the old gentleman's 
favour , nor will I allow him now to be a 
husband either de jure , de facto , or in any 
sense of the expression. » 

It would be endless to describe the different 

M 4 



( 272 ) 
sensations of both families when I divulged the 
news of my misfortunes ; but what others 
felt was slight to what the young lovers ap- 
peared to endure. Mr. Wilmot , who seemed 
before sufficiently inclined to break off the 
match , was , by this blow soon determined : 
one virtue he had in perfection , which was 
prudence , too often the only virtue that 
is left us unimpaired at seventy two. 

Olivier Goldsmith. 

La famille de Wakefield change de 
demeure* 

T he only hope of our family now was ? 
that the report of our misfortunes might be 
malicious or premature ; but a letter from 
my agent in town soon came with a confir- 
mation of every particular. The loss of for- 
tune to myself alone would have been triflings 
the only uneasiness I felt was for my family , 
who were to be humble without such an 
education as could render them callous to 
contempt. 

Near a fortnight passed away before I at- 
tempted to restrain their affliction j for pre- 
mature consolation is but the remembrance of 
sorrow. During this interval , my thoughts 
were employed on some future means of sup- 
porting them ; and at last a small cure of 
fifteen pounds a year was offered me in a. 



(2 7 3) 

distant neighbourhood , where I could still 
enjoy my principles without molestation. 
With this proposal I joyfully closed , having 
determined to increase my salary by mana- 
ging a tittle farm. 

Having taken this resolution , my next care 
w r as to get togelher the wrecks of my fortune; 
and all debts collected and paid, out of four- 
teen thousand pounds , w^e had now but four 
hundred remaining. My chief aitenlion there- 
fore was next to bring down the pride of my 
family to their circumstances for I well knew 
that aspiring beggary is wretchedness itself. 
« You cannot be ignorant , my children » , 
cried I, « that no prudence of ours could ha\re 
prevented our late misfortune ; but prudence 
may do much in disappointing its effetcs.We 
are now poor , my fondlings , and wisdom 
bids us conform to our humble situation. Let 
us then without repining , give up those splen- 
dours with which numbers are wretched , and 
seekin humbler circumstances that peace with 
which all may be happy. The poor live plea- 
santly without our help , and we are not so 
imperFectly formed as to be incapable of living 
without theirs, No , my children , let us from 
this moment give up all pretensions to genti- 
lity ; we have still enough left for happiness , 
if we are wise , and let us draw upon content 
for the deficiencies of fortune. 

As my eldets son was bred a scholar 9 I 

Rl & 



( 274 ) 

determined to send him to town , where his 
abilities might contribute to our support and 
his own. The separation of friends and fa- 
milies is , perhaps , one of the most distressful 
circumstances attendant on penury. The day 
soon arrived on which we were to disperse 
for the first time. My son , after taking leave 
of his mother and the rest , who mingled 
their tears w T ith kisses , came to ask a bles- 
sing from me. This I gave him from my heart, 
and which 5 added to five guineas, was all the 
patrimony I had now to bestow. « You are 
going , my boy » , cried I , « to London on 
foot , in the manner Hooker , your great an- 
cestor, travelled there before you. Take from 
me the same horse that was given him by the 
good bishop Jewel , this staff, and this book 
too i it will be your comfort on the way ; 
these two lines in it are worth a million : 
I have been young , and new am old ; jet 
never saw I the righteous man forsaken or 
his seed begging their breed. Let this be 
your consolation as you travel on. Go , my 
boy , whatever be thy fortune , let me see 
thee once a year; still keep a good heart , and 
farewell ». As he w T as possest of integrity and 
honour , I was under no apprehensions from 
throwing him naked into the amphitheatre of 
life j for 1 knew he would act a good part , 
whether he rose or fell. 

His departure only prepared the way for 
<our own , which arrived a few days after* 



(2 7 5) 

wards. The leaving a neighbourhood in 
which we had enjoyed so many hours of 
tranquility , was not without a tear , which 
scarce fortitude itself could suppress. Besides, 
a journey of seventy miles to a family that had 
hitherto never been above ten from home 
filled us with apprehension , and the cries of 
the poor , who followed us for some miles , 
contributed to encrease it. The first day's 
journey brought us in safety within thirty 
miles of our future retreat , and we put up for 
the night at an obscure inn in a village by 
the way. When we were shewn a room ,1 
desired the landlord , in my usual way , to let 
us have his company, wit which he complied, 
as what he drank would encrease the bill next 
morning. He knew , however , the whole 
neighbourhood to which I was removing , 
particularly 'Squire Thornill , who was to 
be my landlord and who lived within a few 
miles of the place. This gentleman he descri- 
bed as one who desired to know little more 
of the world than the pleasures it afforded , 
being particularly remarkable for his attach- 
ment to the fair sex. He observed that no vir- 
tue was able so resist his arts and assiduity, 
and that scarce a farmer's daughter , within 
ten miles round , but what had found him 
successful and faithless, Thouh this account 
gave me some pain , it )iad a very different 
«iiect upon my daughters , whose features 

M 6 



( 2?6 ) 
seemed to brighten with the expectation of an 
approaching triumph 5 nor was my wife less 
pleased and confident of their allurements and 
virtue. While our thoughts were thus em- 
ployed , the hostess entered the room to in- 
form her husband , thrft the strange gentle- 
man , who had been two days in the house , 
wanted money, and could not satisfy them 
for his reckoning. « Want money ! replied 
the host , that must be impossible y for it was 
no later than yesterday he paid three guineas 
to our beadle to spare an old broken soldier 
that was to be whipped through the town 
for dog-stealing. » The hostess , however , 
still persisting in her first assertion , he was 
preparing to leave the room ,. swearing that 
he would be satisfied one way or another r 
when I begged the landlord would introduce 
me to a stranger of so much charity as he 
described. Whit this he complied , shewing 
111 a gentleman who seemed to be about thirty^ 
dre.st in clothes that once were laced, His per- 
son was well formed , though his face was 
marked with the lines oj£ thinking* He had so- 
mething short and dry in his address 9 and 
seemed not to understand ceremony , or to 
despise it. Upon the landlords leaving the 
room , I could not avoid expressing my coa- 
cern to the stranger at seeing a gentleman ia 
such circumstances , and offered him my purse 
to satisfy the present demand. « I take it witk 



( 2 77 ) 
all my heart , Sir » , replied he , « and am 
glad that a late oversight in giving what mo- 
ney I had about me, has shewn me , there is 
still benevolence left among us. I must , ho- 
wever , previously entreat being informed of 
the name and residence of my benefactor, in 
order to remit it as soon as possible. » In this I 
satisfied him fully , not only mentioning my 
name and late misfortunes , but the place to 
which I \ras going to remove. « This » , cried 
he , « happens still more luckily than I hoped 
for, as I am going the same way myself, ha- 
ving been detained here two days by the 
floods , which , I hope , by to-morrow will 
be found passable. >> I testified the pleasure 
I should have in his company; and , my wife 
and daughters joining intreaty , he w r as pre- 
vailed upon to stay to supper. The stranger's 
conversation , which was at once pleasing 
and instructive , induced me to wish for a 
continuance of it ; but it was now high time 
to retire and take refreshment against the fa- 
tigues of the following day. 

The next morning we all set forward to- 
gether : my family on horseback , while 
Mr. Burchell r our new companion , walked 
along the foot-path by the roadside, obser- 
ving , with a smile , that , as we were ill 
mounted , he would be too generous to attempt 
leaving us behing. As the floods were not yet 
subsided , we were ohliged to hire a guide r 
who trotted on before r Mr. Burchell and I 



( 2 7 8 ) 
bringing up the rear. We lightened the fati- 
gues of the road with philosophical disputes , 
which he seemed to understand perfectly. But 
what surprised me most , was that though he 
was a money- borrower , yet he defended his 
opinions with as much obstinacy as if he had 
beQii my patron. He now and then also infor- 
med me to whom the different seats belonged 
that lay in our view as we travelled the road* 
«That » , cried he , pointing at some distance ^ 
« belongs to Mr. Tornhill 7 a young gentle- 
man who enjoys a large fortune , thoug en- 
tirely dependeut on the will of his uncle , Sir 
William Thornhill , a gentleman , who , 
content with a little himself, permits his ne- 
phew to enjoy the rest 5 and chiefly resides in 
town. » = « What ! » cried I , « is my young 
landlord then the nephew of a man whose 
virtues , generosity , and singularities are so 
universally known I I have heard Sir William 
Thornhill represented as one of the most ge- 
nerous, yet whimsical men in the kingdom; 
3flBp of consummate benevolence, » = « So- 
mething , perhaps , too much so,» replied Mr. 
Burchell : « at least he carried benevolence to 
an excess when young ; for his passions were 
then strong, and as they all were upon the 
side of virtue, they led it up to a romantick 
extreme. He early began to aim at the quali- 
fications of the soldier and the scholar ; was 
soon distinguished in the army, and had some 
reputation among men of learning. Adulation 



( 279 ) 
ever follows the ambitious ; for such a ? one 
receive most pleasure from flattery. He was 
surrounded with crowds, who shewed him 
only one side of their character ; so that he 
began to lose a regard for private interest in 
universal sympathy. He loved all mankind ; 
for fortune prevented him from knowing that 
there were rascals. Physicians tell us of a 
disorder in which the whole body is so exqui- 
sitely sensible , that the slightest touch gives 
pain : what some have thus suffered in their 
persons , this gentleman felt in his mind. The 
slightest distress , whether real or fictitious , 
touched him to the quick , and his soul labou- 
red under a sickly sensibility of the miseries 
of others. Thus disposed to relieve , it will 
be easily conjectured he found numbers dispo- 
sed to solicit : his profusions began to impair 
his fortune , but not his good-nature , that , 
indeed , was seen to encrease as the other 
seemed to decay : he grew improvident as he 
grew poor ; and , though he talked like a 
man of sense , his actions were those of a fool. 
Still however,being surrounded with importu- 
nity, and no longer able to satisfy every requets 
that was made him , instead of money he 
gave promises. They were all he had to 
bestow , and he had not resolution enough to 
give any man pain by a denial. By this means 
he drew round him crowds of dependants ? 
whom he was sure to disappoint , yet wished 
to relieve. These hung upon him for a time 9 



( 280 ) 

and left him for a time , and left him with 
merited reproaches and contempt. But in pro- 
portion as he became contemptible to others , 
he became despicable to himself. His mind 
had leaned upon their adulation ; and r that 
support taken away , he could find no plea- 
sure in the applause of his heart , which he 
had never learnt to reverence. The world 
now began to wear a different aspect ; the 
flattery of his friends began to dwindle into 
simple approbation , that soon took the mors 
friendly form of advice \ and advice , when 
rejected , ever begets reproaches. He now 
therefore found that such friends f as benefits 
had gathered round him , were by no means 
the most estimable : he now found that a 
man's own heart must be ever given, to gain 
that of another* He now found , that — that 
— but I forget what I was going to observe : 
in short , Sir , he resolved to respect himself, 
and laid down a plan of restoring his shat- 
tered fortune. For this purpose , in his own 
whimsical manner he travelled through Eu- 
rope on foot r and before he attained the age 
of thirty, his circumstances were more affluent 
than ever. At present therefore t his bounties 
are more rational and moderate than before ; 
but still he preserves the character of an hu- 
morist , and finds most pleasure ineccentrick 
virtues. » 

My attention was so much taken up by 
Mr. Burchell's account , that I scarce looked 



(2Bl ) 
forward as we went along , till we were alar- 
med by the cries of my family , when tur- 
ning , I perceived my youngest daughter in 
the midst ot a rapid stream , thrown from her 
horse , and struggling with the torrent. She 
had sunk twice , nor was it in my power to 
disengage myself in time to bring her relief, 
My sensations were even too violent to per- 
mit my attempting her rescue : she would 
have certainly perished , Had not my com- 
panion , perceiving her danger , instantly 
plunged in to her relief, and , with some dif- 
ficulty , brought her in safety to the opposite 
shore, By taking the curreut a little far! her 
up, the rest of the family got safely over > 
where we had an opportunity of joining our 
acknowledgement to hers. Her gratitude may 
be more readily imagined than described : sha 
thanked her deliverer more with locks than 
words , and continued to lean upon his arm f 
as if still willing to receive assistance. My 
wife also hoped one day to to have pleasure 
of returning his kindness at her own house, 
Thus , after we w T ere all resfreshed at the 
next inn 5 and had dined together , as he was 
going to a different part of the country , he 
took leave ; and we pursued our journey. My 
wife observing, as we went , that she liked 
Mr. Burchell extremely , and protesting that ^ 
if he had birth and fortune , to entitle him 
to match into such a family as ours , she 
knew no man she would sooner fix up on a I 



( 282 ) 

could not but smile to hear her talk in this 
strain : one almost at the verge of beggary 9 
thus to assume language of the most insulting 
affluence , might excite the ridicule of illna- 
ture ; but I was never much displeased with 
those innocent delusions that tend to make us 
more happy. Olivier Goldrmith. 

La famille de H^pkefield trouve le bonheur 
dans son humble fortune. 

The place of our new retreat was in a 
little neighbourhood , consisting of farmers 
who tilled their own grounds , and were 
equal strangers to opulence and poverty. As 
they had almost all the conveniences of life 
within themselves , they seldom visited towns 
or cities in search of superfluity. Remote from 
the polite , they s ( till retained a primaeval 
simplicity of manners , and frugal by long 
habit , scarce knew that temperance was a 
virtue. They wrought with cheerfulness on 
days of labour ; but observed festivals as in- 
tervals of idleness and pleasure. They kept 
ut the Christmas carol , sent true love-knots 
on Valentine morning , eat pencakes on 
Shrove-tide , shewed their wit on the first of 
April , and religiously cracked nuts on Mi- 
chc.elmaseve. Being apprized of our approach , 
the whole neighbourhood came out to meet 
their minister , drest in their finest clothes , 



( 283 ) 
and preceded by a pipe and tabour : a feast 
also was provided for our reception , at which, 
we sat cheerfully down ; and , what the con- 
versation wanted in wit , we made up in 
laughter. 

Our little habitation was situated at the foot 
of a sloping hill , sheltered with a beautiful 
underwood behind , and a prattling river be- 
fore j on one side a meadow , on the olher a 
green. My farm consisted of about twenty 
acres of excellent land , having given a hun- 
dred pounds for my predecessor's good-will. 
Nothing could exceed the neatness of my lit- 
tle inclosures : the elms and hedge-rows ap- 
pearing with inexpressible beauty. My house 
consisted of hut one story ? and was cove- 
red with thatch ; which gave it an air of 
great snugness ; the walls of the inside were 
nicely white - w r ashed , and my daugh- 
ters undertook to adorn them with pictures 
of their own designing. Though the same 
room served us for parlour and kitchen , that 
only made it the warmer. Besides it was kept 
with the utmost neatness , the dishes , plates , 
and coppers , being well scoured , and all 
disposed in bright rows on the shelves , the 
eye was agreeably relieved , and did not seem 
to want rich furniture. There were three other 
apartments , one fort my wife and me , ano- 
ther for our two daughters , within our own, 
and the third , with two beds 9 for the rest 
of my children. 



( 284 ) 

The little republick to which I gave laws * 
Was regulated in the following manner. By 
sun-rise we all assembled in our common 
appartment ; the fire heing previously kind- 
led by the servant. After we had saluted each 
other with proper ceremony , ( for I always 
thought fit to keep up some meehanical forms 
of good breeding , without which , freedom 
ever destroys friendship ) we all bent in gra- 
titude to that being who gave us another day. 
This duty being performed , my son and I 
went to pursue our usual industry abroad , 
while my wife and daughters employed them- 
selves in providing breakfast, which was al- 
ways ready at a certain time, I allowed half 
an hour for this meal , and an hour for din- 
ner ; which time was taken up in innocent 
mirth between my wife and daughters , and 
in philosophical arguments between my son 
and me. 

As we rose with the sun , so we never pur- 
sued our labours after it was gone down , but 
returned home tho the expecting family , 
where smiling looks , a neat heart, and plea- 
sant fire , were prepared for our reception* 
Nor were we wilhoutother guests: sometimes 
farmer Flamborough , our talkative neigh- 
bour , and often the blind piper , would pay 
us a visit, and taste ©ur gooseberry wine ; 
for the making of which we had lost neither 
the receipt nor the reputation. These harm- 
less people had several ways of being good. 



( 285 ) 

company ; while one played the pipe , ano- 
ther would sing some soothing ballad , Johnny 
Armstrong's last good night , or the , cruelty 
of Barbara Allen. The night was concluded 
in the manner we began the morning , my 
youngest boys being appointed to read the 
lessons of the day , and he that read loudest 9 
distinctest , and best , was to have an half- 
penny on Sunday to put in the poor's box. 

When Sunday came , it was indeed a day 
of finery , which all my sumptuary edicts 
could not restrain. How w^ell soever I fancied 
my lectures against pride had conquered the 
vanity of my daughters , yet I still found them 
secretly attached to all their former finery ; 
they still loved laces , ribands , bugles and 
catgut : my wife herself retained a passion 
for her crimson paduasoy , because I formerly 
happened to say it became her. 

The first Sunday in particular their beha- 
viour served to mortify me : I had desired my 
girls the preceeding night to be drest early the 
next day , for I always loved to be at church 
a good while before the rest of the congre- 
gation. They punctually obeyed my direc- 
tions j but when we were to assemble in the 
morning at breakfast , dow r n came my wife 
and daughters , drest out in all their former 
splendour : their hair plastered up with po- 
matum , their faces patched to taste , their 
trains bandied up into an heap behind , and 
rustling at every motion t I could not help smi- 



( 286 ) 

ling at their vanity , particularly that of my 
wife , from whom I expected more discre- 
tion. In this exigence , therefore , my only 
resource was to order my son , with an im- 
portant air , to call our coach. The girls 
were amazed at the command ; but I repea- 
ted it with mofe solemnity than before. — 
4k Surely , my dear , you jest , » cried my 
wife , « we can walk it perfectly well : we 
want no coach to carry us now. « — You 
mistake, child , » returned I , « we do want 
a coach ; for if we walk to church in this 
trim , the very children in the parish will 
hoot after us for a show. » — « Indeed , » re- 
plied my wife, « I always imagined that my 
Charles was fond of seeing his children neat 
and handsome about him. » — « You may 
be as neat as you please , » interrupted I , 
« and I shall love you the better for it ; but 
ail this is not neatness , but frippery. These 
rufflings , and pinkings , and patchings , will 
only make us hated by all the wives of our 
neighbours. No , my children , » continued 
I more gravely , « those gowns may be al- 
tered into something ot a plainer cut ; for fi- 
nery is very unbecoming in us , who want 
the means of decency. 1 don't know whether 
such flouncing and shredding is becoming 
even in the rirh , if we consider , upon a mo- 
derate calculation , that the nakedness of the 
indigent may be cloathed trom the trimmings 
of the vain. »» 



( 2 8 7 ) 

This remontrance had the proper effect ; 
ihey went with great composure , that very 
instant, to change their dress ; and the next 
day I had the satisfaction of finding my dau- 
ghters , at their own request , employed in 
cutting up their trains into Sunday waistcoats 
for Dick und Bill , ths two little ones ; and 
what was still more satisfactory , the gowns 
seemed improved by being thus curtailed. 
Olivier Goldsmith. 

De Vamour conjugal. 

Of all the pleasures that endear human life 9 
there are none more worthy the attention of 
a rational creature than those that flow from 
the mutual return of conjugal love. 

When two minds are thus engaged by the ties 
of reciprocal sincerity 5 each alternately re- 
ceives and communicates a transport that is 
inconceivable to all but those who are in this 
situation : hence arises that heart-ennobling 
solicitude for one another's welfare j that ten- 
der sympathy which alleviates affliction , and 
that participated pleasure which heightens 
prosperity and joy itself. 

A good wife makes the cares of te world 
sit easy , and adds a sweetness to its pleasures: 
she is a man's best companion in prosperity , 
and his only friend in adversity ; the careful- 
lest preserver of his healt , and the kindest 



( 238 ) 
attendant on his sickness : a faithful adviser 
fai distress ? a comforter in affliction , and a 
prudent manager of all his domestic affairs. 

Good-nature and evenness of temper will 
give you an easy companion for life ; virtue 
and good sense an agreeable friend ; love and 
constancy a good wife or husband, 

A married woman should not be desirous 
of attracting the eyes of any man but those 
of her husband. 

He that allows himself to taste those plea- 
sures which he denies his wife , acts like a 
man who would enjoin his wife to oppose 
those enemies to whom he has already sur- 
rendered. 

Julius Sabinus , having engaged the interest 
of the Gauls , caused himself to be proclaimed 
emperor of Rome ; but being defeated , he fled 
to his country-house , and set it on fire , in 
order to raise a report that he had perished. 
This scheme answered his end , for it was 
believed that he had there suffered a volun- 
tary death. But , in the man time , he lay con- 
cealed with his treasures ( for he was immen- 
sely rich ) in a cave , which he had caused to 
be dug in a solitary place , and which was 
known only to two of his freedmen upon 
whose fidelity he could depend. He might ea- 
sily have withdrawn into Germany; bul he 
could not prevail on himself to abandon his 
wife , whom he passionately loved. Sabinus , 
that no one might doubt of his death , did not , 

for 



( 28g ) 
for sometime , even undeceive his wife, who 
solemnized his obsequies with great pomp , 
bewailed him with many tears; and , at last, 
no longer able to bear the loss of a husband 
for whom she had the sincerest affection , re- 
solved no to outlive him , and began to abs- 
tain from all food. This news alarmed Sabinus; 
and therefore, by means of MaYtialis , one of 
his freedmen , he informed her, that he was 
still alive , and acquainted her with the place 
where he lay concealed ; desiring her , at the 
same time , to suppress her joy , lest te secret 
might thence be betrayed. Empona heard the 
relation with inexpressible pleasure ; and , 
pretending business in the country , flew to 
her husband. The cave to her was then pre- 
preferable ta a palace , for there only she was 
happy. She went frequently to see him , and 
sometimes contrived to stay whole weeks un- 
suspected. She had even two children by him, 
who were born and brought up in the cave.. 
When at Home, she continued to bewail him 
as dead , and concealed the whole with exem- 
plary fidelity and wonderful address ; nay , 
she found means to convey him into the city, 
upon what motive I know not , and from 
thence back to this cave , so well disguised 
that he was known by no one. But after he 
had passed nine years in this manner, he was 
at length discovered by some persons who 
narrowly watched his wife , upon her fre- 
quently absenting herself from her own house , 

N 



( ago.) 

and followed her to the cave without being 
discovered. Sabinus was immediately seized, 
and sent to Home loaded with chains , to- 
gether with his wife ; who throwing herself 
at the emperor's feet , and presenting to him 
her two tender infants , endeavoured by her 
tears an intreaties to move him to compassion, 
Vespasian , the emperor, could not help wee- 
ping at so affecting an objet ; nevertheless 7 
he condemned both her and her husband , and 
caused them soon afterwards to be executed* 



Cyrus , king of Persia, had taken captive 
the young prince af Armenia, together with 
his beautiful and blooming princess , whom 
he had lately married , and of whom he was 
passionately fond. When both were brought 
to the tribunal , Cyrus asked the prince , what 
he would give to be reinstated in his king- 
dom I He answered , with an air of indiffer- 
ence , « That as for his crown, and his own 
liberty , he valued them at a very low rate ; 
but if Cyrus would restore his beloved prin- 
cess to her native dignity and hereditary pos- 
sessions , he should infinitely rejoice , and 
would pay , ( this he uttered with tenderness 
and ardor) would willingly pay his life for 
the purchase. » — When all the prisoners 
were dismissed with freedom , it is impossible 
to bs expressed how they were charmed with 



( agi ) 
thetr royal benefactor ^ some celebrated his 
martial accomplishments; some applauded his 
social virtues ; all were prodigal of their prai- 
se , and lavish in grateful acknowledgement. 
« And you , » said the prince , addressing 
himself to his bride , « what think you of 
Cyrus I » — « I did not observe him 9 » said 
the princess. — « Not observe him ! Upon 
vvhat then was your attention fixed ? » — 
& Upon that dear and generous man , who 
declared that he would purchase my liberty 
at the expense of his own life* » 

What an idea of chastity ! and , at the same 
time , what a wonderful simplicity and deli- 
cacy of thought are here , in the answer of 
the young princess , who had no eyes but for 
her husband ! The beauties of History. 

Des aff actions de parente* 
■ 

As the vexations which parents receive 
from their children hasten the approach oi 
age and double the force of years , so the com- 
forts which they reap from them are balm to 
all other sorrows and disappoint the injuries 
of time. Parents repeat their lives in their off- 
springs j and their concern for them is so near , 
that they feel all their sufferings , and taste 
all their enjoyments , as much as if they regar- 
ded their own persons. 

However strong we may suppose the fond- 
ness of a father for his children , yet .they siill 

N2 



( ^9 2 ) 
find more lively marks of tenderness in the 
bosom of a mother. There are no ties in na- 
ture to compare with those which. unite an 
affectionate mother to her children , when 
they repay her tenderness with obedience and 
love. 

Solon inquiring of Thales , the Milesian 
philosopher , why , considering the happy 
situation of his affairs , be had neither wife 
nor children ; Thales , for the present , made 
him ho answer. A few days after , he intro- 
duced a stranger , properly instructed , who 
said, that he came ten days ago from Athens* 
Solon immediately asked him what news h© 
brought from thence : « I know of nothing 
extraordinary , replied he , « except that the 
whole city celebrated the funeral of a young 
man , the son of a citizen , most eminent for 
his virtues , who , it seems , went abroad 
upon his travels. » « Miserable man ! » cried 
Solon : « but did not you hear his name I » 
" I did , ,, returned the stranger , u but I 
have forgotten it ; this I remember , that he 
was particulary famous for his wisdom and 
his justice. ,, — " Was it Solon I ,, said our 
philosopher. — " It was , ,, answered the 
stranger. Upon this our legislator began to 
discover all the symptoms of the deepest sor- 
row. But Thales interposing , with a smile , 
addressed him thus : " These , O Solon , are 
things which make me afraid of marriage 
and children , since these are capable of af- 



( 2 9 3 ) 
fecting even so wise a man as you ; be not 
however concerned, for this is all a fiction. ,, 
Wheter on this occasion, or on the real loss 
of a son , is uncertain , Solon being desired by 
a person not to weep , since weeping would 
avail nothing, he answered with much huma- 
nity and good sense, " And for this cause I 
weep. „ Universal History* 



Cornelia , the illustrious mother of the 
Gracchi , after the death of her husband , who 
left her twelve children , applied herself to 
the care of her family , with a wisdom and 
prudence that acquired her universal esteem. 
Only three out of the twelve , lived to years 
of maturity ; one daughter 6 Sempronia , whom 
she married to the second Scipio Africanus ; 
and two sous , Tiberius and Caius , whom 
she brought up with so much care , that 9 
though they were generally acknowledged 
to have been born with the most happy geni- 
usses and dispositions , it was judged that 
they were still more indebted to education 
than to nature, The answer she gave a Cam- 
panian lady concerning them is very famous , 
and includes in it great instructions for ladies 
and mothers. 

That lady , who was very rich , and still 
fonder of pomp and show , after having dis- 
played , ia a visit she made her , her dia- 

N3 



( *9k ) 
monds , pearls , and richest jewels 9 earnes- 
tly desired Cornelia to let her see her jewels 
also. Cornelia dexteiously turned the conver- 
sation to another subject , to wait the return 
of her sons , who were gone to the public 
schools. When they returned , and entered 
their mother's apartment , she said to the 
Campanian lady, pointing to them with her 
hand , " These are my jewels , and the only 
ornaments t admire. ,, And such ornaments , 
which are the strength and support of society ^ 
add a brighter lustre to the fair, than all tha 
jewels of the East. 

The beauties of History* 

De V amour filial. 

It may be truly said , that if persons are 
undutiful to their parents , they seldom prove 
good to any other relation. 

The honor which children are required to 
give to their father and mother 9 includes in 
it , love , reverence 9 obedience , and relief. 
It is usual with Providence to retaliate men's 
disobedience to their parents in kind : com- 
monly our own children will pay us home 
for it. 

vVhere shall we find the person who hath 
received from any one benefits so great , or 
so many , as children from their parents ? To 
them it is they owe their very existence , and 



( 295 ) 

consequently all the pleasures and enjoyments 
of life. 

No one will expect a return of kindness 9 
however considerable , from him who can 
show himself unmindful of what he oweth 
his parents. 

To see a father treating his sons like an elder 
brother , and to see sons covet their father's 
company and conversation , because they think 
him the wisest and most agreeable man of 
their acquintance , is the most amiable picture 
the eye can behold ; it is a transplanted self- 
love , as sacred as friendship 9 as pleasurable 
as love , and as happy as religion can make it* 
If every father remembered his own thoughts 
and inclinations when he was a son ? and every 
son remembered what he expected from his 
father when he himself was in a state of de- 
pendency ; this one reflection would keep 
fathers from being rigid, or sons dissolute, 

T. Manlius , the Roman dictator , having 
exqpcised great violence and cruelty over the 
citizen* , was cited at the expiration of his 
office to answer for his conduct. Among other 
things that were laid to his charge , he was 
accused of treating one of his own sons with 
barbarity. Manlius , it seems , had no other 
cause of complaint againts this son than his 
having an impediment in his speech. For this 
reason he was banished far from the city , 
from his home and the company of those of 

W"4 



his own age and fortune , and condemned to 
servile works and a prison like a slave. All 
were highly exasperated against so severe a 
dictator and so inhuman a father , except the 
son himself, who moved with filial piety, 
and , under the greatest concern that he should 
furnish matter of accusation against his father, 
resolved upon a most extraordinary method 
to relieve him. One morning , without ap- 
prising any body, he came to the city, armed 
with a dagger, and went directly to the house 
of the tribune Pomponius , who had accused 
his father. Pomponius was yet in bed. He sent 
up his name , and was immediately admitted 
by the tribune , who did not doubt but he 
was come to discover to him some new in- 
stances of his father's severity. After they 
had saluted each other , young Manlius de» 
sired a private conference ; and , as soon as 
he saw himself alone with the tribune , he 
drew out his dagger, presented it to his breast, 
and declared he would stab him that mo my it , 
if he dit not swear in the form he shopld dic- 
tate , « Never to hold the assembly of the 
people for accusing his father. » Pomponius, 
who saw the dagger glittering, at his breast , 
himself alone without arms, attacked by a ro- 
bust young man full of a bold confidence in 
his own strength , took the oath demanded of 
him , and afterwards confessed whit a kind 
of complacency in the thing , and a sincerity 



( 297 ) 
which sufficiently argued he was not sorry 
for what he had done , that it was that vio- 
lence which had obliged him to desist from 
his enterprise. 



Demetrius , king of Macedon , being im- 
prisoned by Seleucus , wrote a letter to his 
son Antigonus , commending to him the care 
of his concerns in Greece ; exhorting him to 
govern his subjects justly , to act always with 
moderation , and to look upon him ( his fa- 
ther ) as dead ; conjuring him never to part 
with any of his cities , or give up any thing to 
Seleucus to procure his liberty. But notwith- 
standing this letter might , in the opinion 
of the world , have freed him from all cen- 
sure , yet he immediately offered Seleucus not 
only all that he held in Greece, but his own 
person in hostage for his father's liberty. But 
this was refused. However , Antigonus con- 
tinued earnestly to solicit it by the most 
pressing and passionate importunities and 
offers , as long as Demetrius lived ; going 
in deep mourning during that space ( three 
years ) , and never once partaking of any 
feasts or diversions while his father was in 
prison. As soon as he heard of his death , 
and that his ashes were coming from Syria , 
he sailed with a noble fleet to the Archipe- 
lago , to meet them. He then deposited them 
in a golden urn 9 which , when he entered 

N5 



(2 9 8 ) 
the harbour of Corinth , he placed in the 
poop of the royal galley, set his crown upon 
it , and covered it with a canopy of purple, 
himself standing by, clothed in deep mourning 
and his eyes red with tears. 

It is worth observing , that Demetrius like- 
wise had rendered himself very remarkable 
for his filial piety : for we are told by Plu- 
tarch , Justin , and others that Demetrius was. 
not only dutiful and loyal to his father , but 
had so warm an affection for his person , that 
he was , in the strictest sense of the words , 
his father's best friend. As all degrees of bliss 
are either heightened or lessened by compa- 
rison > so the happiness of Antigonus ( the 
father of Demetrius ) in this respect , appeared 
with the brighter lustre on account of the fa- 
mily dissensions in the courts of his several 
rivals. Of this he was so sensible , that having 
given audience one day to the ambassadors 
ot Cassander , Ptolemy and Lysimachus , and 
they being withdrawn , he ordered them to 
be called back , because his son Demetrius , 
coming in warm from hunting , went into 
his father's apartment, saluted him , and then 
sat down with his javelin in his hand. When 
the ambassadors demanded what his pleasure 
Was , « Tell your masters , » said Antigo- 
nus , <i in addition to what I have before 
mentioned , upon what terms my son and 
1 live. » 

The sense the father had of his son's invio- 



( 2 99 ) 
lable attachment to him , made him so rea- 
dily compliment him with the regal dignity, 
giving him not only a share in the government, 
but the title of king ; and he never had any 
occasion to repent of his confidence. 



While Octavius was at Samos , after the 
famous battle of Actium , which made him 
master of the universe , he held a council to 
examine the prisoners who had been engaged 
in Antony's party. Among the rest there was 
brought before him an old man named Me- 
tellus , oppressed with years and infirmities, 
disfigured by a long beard and a neglected 
head of hair , but especially by his clothes , 
which by his ill fortune were become very 
ragged. The son of this Metellus was one of 
the judges , and he had great difficulty of 
knowing his father in the deplorable condi- 
tion in which he saw him. At last , however, 
having^ recollected his features , instead of 
being ashamed to own him, he ran to embrace 
him , crying bitterly. Afterwards , turning to- 
wards the tribunal , « Caesar , » says he 9 
« my father has been your enemy, and I your 
officer : he deserves to be punished , and I 
to be rewarded. The favor I desire of you is 
either to save him on my account, or to or- 
der me to be put to death wit him. » All the 
judges were touched with compassion at this 

N 6 



( 3oo ) 

affecting scene j Octavius himself relented , 
and granted to old Metellus his life and 
liberty. 



Epaminondas , without all doubt , was one 
of the greatest generals and one of the best 
men which Greece ever produced* Before him 
the city of Thebes was not distinguished by 
any memorable action , and after him it was 
not famous for its virtues but its misfortunes , 
till it sunk into its original obscurity ', so that 
it saw its glory take birth and expire with 
this great man. The victory he obtained at 
Leuctra had drawn the eyes and admiration 
of all the neighbouring people up Epaminon- 
das , who looked upon him as the support of 
Thebes, as the triumphant conqueror of all 
Sparta , as the deliverer of all Greece ; in a 
word , as the greatest man and the most ex- 
cellent captain th.it ever was in the world. In 
the midst of this universal applause , so ca- 
pable of making the general of an army forget 
the man for the victor , Epaminondas , little 
sensible to so affecting and so deserved a glory ; 
« My joy , » said he , « arises from my sensQ 
of that wich the news of my victory will 
give my lather and mother. » 

The beauties of history. 



( 3oi ) 
De V amour fraternel. 

Though all mankind spring from the same 
head , and are bound to cultivate a mutual 
goodwill to each other : yet this duty is not 
so obvious and striking as that which is in- 
cumbent on those who belong to the same 
family. 

Nothing can approach nearer to self- love 
than fraternal affection : and there is but a 
short remove from our own concern and hap- 
piness to theirs , who come from the same 
stock , and are partakers of the same blood. 
Nothing , therefore , can be more horrible 
than discord and animosity among members 
so allied , and nothing so beautiful as har- 
mony and love. 

This relation is formed by nature , not by 
choice -, and though it has many things in 
common with , yet it is prior to the obliga- 
tions of friendship : consequently nature and 
reason dictate that there should be peculiar 
affection between brethren. We are not obli- 
ged , however , to make a brother or sister 
an intimate or hosom friend in preference to 
one who is not a-kin. Diversity of temper 9 
and want of suitable qualifications may ren- 
der it* unsafe and improper. But where friend- 
ship and fraternity meet in the same persons, 
such a conjunction, adds a lustre to the rela- 
tion. 



( 3o 2 ) 

Among brethren a hearty love of benevo- 
lence , an ardent concern 4o serve and pro- 
mote it , are the peculiar offices of this rela- 
tion ; and though friends are to have their 
share , yet the claim of kindred is first and 
ordinarily strongest- v 

Darius , king of Persia , had three son's by 
his first wife , the daughter of Gabrias , all 
three born before their father came teethe 
crown ; and four more by Afossa , the dau- 
ghter of Cyrus , w^ho w T ere all born after 
their fafher's accession to the throne. Artaba- 
lies , called by Justin , Artimenes , was the 
eldest of the former, and Xerxes of the latter. 
Artabazanes alledged , in his own behalf , 
that the right of succession , according to the 
custom and practice of all nations , belonged 
to him preferably to all the rest. Xerxes's ar- 
gument for succeeding his father was , that 
as he w 7 as the son of Atossa , the daughter 
of Cyrus , who founded the Persian empire , 
it was more just that the crown of Cyrus 
should devolve npon one of his descendants , 
than upon one that was not. Demaratus, a 
Spartan king, at that time a the court of Per- 
sia , secretly suggested to Xerves anothertr- 
gument to support his prentensions ; that Ar- 
tabazanes was iiideed the eldest son of Da- 
rius ; but that he , Xerxes , was the eldest 
son of the king ; and therefore Artabazanes 
being born when his father was but a private 
person , all he could pretend to 7 on account 



( 3o3 ) 
of his seniority , was only to iuherit his pri- 
vate estate ; but that he , Xerxes , being the 
first-horn son of the king , had the best right 
to succeed to the crown. He further suppor- 
ted this argument by the example of the La- 
cedemonians , who admitted none to inherit 
the kingdom but those children that were 
born after their father's accession. The right 
of succession was accordingly determined id 
favor of Xerxes. Both Justin and Plutarch 
take notice of the prudent conduct of these 
two brothers on so nice an occasion. Accor- 
ding to their manner of relating this fact , Ar- 
tabazanes was absent when the king died , 
and Xerxesimmediately assumed all the marks, 
and exercised all the functions of the sove- 
reignty. But upon his brother's returning home , 
he quitted the diadem and the tiara , which he 
wore in such a manner as only suited the king , 
went out to meet him , and showed him all 
imaginable respect. They agreed to make their 
uncle Artabanes the arbitrator of their diffe- 
rence , and , without any further appeal , to 
acquiesce in his decision. 

All the while this dispute lasted ? the two 
brothers showed one another all the demons- 
trations of a truly fraternal affection , by kee- 
ping up a continual intercourse of presents 
and entertainments : whence their mutual est- 
eem and confidence for each other banished 
all fears and suspicions on both sides , and in- 



( 3o4 ) 
troduced an unconstrained cheerfulness and a 
perfect security. 

This is a spectacle , says Justin , highly 
worthy of our admiration : to see , whilst 
most brothers are at daggers -drawing with 
one another about a small patrimony , with 
what moderation and temper both waited for 
a decision , which was to dispose of the grea- 
test empire then in the universe. When Ar- 
tabanes gave judgment in favor of Xerxes , 
Artabazaues the same instant prostrated him- 
self before him , acknowledging him for his 
master, and placed him upon the throne with 
his own hand j by which proceeding he sho- 
wed a greatness of soul truly royal , and in- 
finitely superior to all human dignities. This 
ready acquiescence in a sentence so contrary 
to his interest, was not the effect of an artful 
policy , that knows how to dissemble upon 
occasion 7 and to receive honor to itself from 
what it could not prevent : no ; it proceeded 
from a real respect for the laws , a sincere 
affection for his brother, and an indifference 
for that which so warmly inflames the ambi- 
tion of mankind , and so frequently arms the 
nearest relations against each other. For his 
part , during his whole life , he continued 
firm y attached to the interests of Xerxes , and 
prosecuted them with so much ardor and 
zeal , that he lost his life in bis service at the 
battle of Salimaa. 



( 3o5 ) 



The Chinese have been remarkable for the 
purity of their morals , the simplicity of their 
manners , and the cultivation of the social 
virtues. The examples of their rulers and great 
men have very much contributed to confirm 
the people in the practice of moral duties > 
for , perhaps , few princes ever exhibited 
greater instances of an admirable and virtuous 
conduct. Cemcu , who was a disciple of, and 
commentator upon their celebrated philoso- 
pher Confucius , gives us the following in- 
stance of brotherly affection. 

The king of Cucho had three sons , and , 
like many other parents having most affec- 
tion for the youngest , some da^s before his 
death declared him his successor , to the ex- 
clusion of his brethren. This proceeding was 
the more extraordinary , as it was contrary 
to the laws of the kingdom. The people , 
therefore , thought that after the death of the 
king , they might without any crime raise 
the eldest son to the throne. This design was 
universally approved of ; but the new king 
calling to mind his father's last words , re- 
jected the offer , and , taking the crown , 
placed it on the head of his youngest brother; 
publickly declaring that he renounced it , and 
thought himself unworthy of it , as he was 
excluded by his father's will j and his father 



( 3o6 ) 
could not now retract what he had done. His 
brother, being affected with such a generous 
action , instantly intreated him not to oppose 
the iclination of the people , who desired him 
for their ruler. He urged , that he alone was 
the lawful successor to the crown which he 
refused , and that their father could not in- 
fringe the laws of the kingdom ; that he had 
been betrayed by an extravagant fondness ; 
and that , in a word , the people had the 
power of redressing any breach in the esta- 
blished law. Nothing , however, was capable 
of persuading his brother to accept of the 
crown. There was a glorious contest between 
the two princes ; and as they preceived that 
the dispute would be endless , they retired 
from court: thus each having both conquered 
and been vanquished , they went to end their 
days together in peaceful -solitude , and left 
the kingdom to their other brother. 

The beauties of history, 

De V ambition. 

Ambition to rule is more vehement than 
malice to revenge. It must be confessed, that 
no passion has produced more dreadful ef- 
fects than ambition ; and yet , methinks, am- 
bition is not a vice but in a vicious mind. In 
a virtuous mind it is a virtue , and will be 
found to take its merit from the character in 
which it is mixed. 



( 3o 7 ) 

— — Ambition is at distance 
A goodh* prospect , tempting to the view : 
The height delights us , and the mountain top 
Looks beautiful , because 'lis nigh to heaven 5 
But we ne'er look how sand}'s the foundation , 
What storms will batter and what tempests shake us ! 

When wild ambition in the heart we find , 
Farewell content and quiet of the mind : 
For glittering clouds we leave the solid shore y 
And wonted happiness returns no more. 

Ambition is the dropsy of the soul, 

Whose thirst, we must not yield to , but controul. 

Be prudent, and the shore in prospect keep. 
In a wenk boat trust not the deep : 
Plac'd beneath envy , above envying rise ; 
Pity great men, great things despise. 

M. Manlius was a patrician of one of the 
most illustrious houses in home. He had been 
consul , and had acquired very great reputa- 
tion by many glorius exploits , and in parti- 
cular by the signal service he had done his 
country in saving the Capitol , when upon 
the point of being taken by the Gauls \ but a 
secret vanity and ambition , which Manlius 
suffered to take root in his heart , corrupted 
all his great qualities , and entirely sullied 
his glory. As he did not believe himself so 
much considered by the senators as he deser- 
ved , threw himself into a party of the peo- 
ple , and entered into a strict union with the 
tribunes. He spoke contemptuously of the 
senators , and flattered ^the multitude. In a 
word , he chose rather to have a great than 



( 3o8 ) 

a good reputation : nothing would satisfy him 
but the supreme authority. The measures , 
however , which he employed to accomplish 
his design were so ill concerted , that Manlius 
was cited before the dictator to ansver for his 
conduct. He had the rashness to say , in the 
assemblies which he held in his own house , 
that the senators had appropriated the gold 
intended for the payment of the auxiliary 
troops, to their own use , and concealed great 
treasures which belonged to the public, Man- 
lius was ordered to make good his charge ; 
which not being able to do , he was com- 
mitted to prison as a seditious person and a 
false accuser. Seeing himself seized by the 
dictator's officer , he omitted nothing to make 
the people rise in his defense. He invoked all 
the gods that inhabited the Capitol , imploring 
them to aid him , who had so courageously 
defended them. « How ! » said he , « shall 
the hand that has preserved your temples from 
the fury of the Gauls be disgraced with vile 
chains ! p The whole people were penetrated 
with the most lively affliction. Multitudes 
passed not only the day , but even the night , 
round the prison , and menaced to break down 
the gates. The senate chose to grant them that 
of their own accord , which ihey were upon 
the point of taking by force , and caused 
Manlius to be set at liberty. But by that timo- 
rous policy , instead of appeasing the sedi- 
tion , they only gave it a head. Manlius , re- 



( 3o 9 ) 
leased from prison , grew more violent and 
less cautious : in short , his design to overturn 
the government and enslave the people was 
so evident that he was again seized and im- 
prisoned. He now began to lose all hopes , 
and the people's eyes were fully opened ; they 
saw they had been deceived. As for Manlius 9 
when he came to take his trial , he appeared 
in a mourning habit ; but without a single 
senator , relation 9 friend , or even his own 
brothers along with him , to express concern 
for his fate. So much did the love of liberty, 
and the fear of being enslaved , prevail in 
the hearts of the Romans over all the ties of 
blood and nature ! After a fair hearing, he was 
condemned to be thrown from the top of the 
Capitol ; and the same place which had been 
the theatre of his glory , became that of his 
shame and infamy. 

Such was the end of a man who might 
have been the ornament of his country , if he 
had not been born in a free state. We here 
see how many glorious and excellent qualities 
the lust of reigning rendered not only fruitless , 
but odious and detestable. 

The beauties of history. 



Marius , so famous in the Roman history, 
was a man that had but one passion , the de- 
sire of aggrandizing himself , to w r hich he 
never made any scruple to sacrifice every 



( 3io ) 

thing : for he never knew either integrity, sin- 
cerity , or gratitude , when the pursuit o.f his 
views were in question. It was this ambition 
that made him quit the plough and take up 
the profession of arms , by which he was in 
hopes of making his fortune. He succeeded 
beyond ail his expectations : but after having 
passed through every honor in the Roman 
government , having acquired a considerable 
fortune , and made a good alliance by mar- 
rying Julia , Caesar's aunt 5 instead of his 
being satisfied with his uncommon success , 
and enjoying the fruits of his toils and dan- 
gers , at the age of seventy , when he was 
become exceedingly gross and heavy , and 
oppressed with many infirmities , he was de- 
termined to take on him the war againts Mi- 
thridates , king of Pontus. He imagined , that 
this war furnished an occasion of acquiring 
great glory and riches , without much dan- 
ger. But Sylla , as consul , was general of 
the Roman armies , and had a just right to 
appropriate the first and most glorious pro- 
vince to himself; he was likewise appointed 
to this command by the senate. Marius oppo- 
sed him. The contest ran high and a civil war 
ensued. Sylla besieges the city of Rome , ad 
Marius is obliged to save himself by flight. 
Sylla makes an alteration in the government, 
and an order is issued out in all the cities of 
Italy , to seize and kill Marius wherever he 
should be found. After wandering from place 



( 3n ) 
to place , and suffering a variety of difficul- 
ties , dangers and distresses , both by sea and 
land , he is at last treacherously set on shore 
in the province of an enemy ; without aid , 
without defence , and abandoned by all the 
world. He , however , did not abandon 
himself; but crossing marshes , ditches full 
of water , and muddy grounds , he came at 
length to a poor woodcleaver's cottage. He 
threw himself at his feet , and conjured him 
to save a man , who , if he escaped danger , 
would reward him beyond his hopes. The 
peasant , whether he knew him , or was 
struck with the loftiness and majesty of his 
appearance , which his misfortunes had not 
effaced , answered , « That if he only wanted 
rest , he might find it in his cottage $ but if 
he fled from enemies , he would show him 
a safer retreat. » Marius having accepted the 
last offer, the man conducted him to a hollow 
place , near a marsh ; where he covered him 
with leaves , reeds , and rushes. Marius had 
scarce entered this dismal retreat , before he 
heard his enemies in pursuit of him. They 
questioned , pressed , and menaced the wood- 
man , for concealing an enemy of the public , 
condemned to die by the Roman senate. Ma- 
rius had no resource left : he quitted his re- 
treat , undressed himself ? and plunged into 
the black and muddy water of the marsh. 
This dirty asylum could not conceal him. 
His pursuers ran to him , and having drawn 



(312) 

him out of the water naked , and all covered 
with mud , they put a cord about his neck . 
and dragged him to Minturnae , where they 
delivered him to the magistrates. 

May I be allowed here to desire the reader 
to consider Marius attentively in his deplo- 
rable state at this moment t What might then 
be his thoughts 1 How much ought he to have 
abhorred a fatal ambition that , from the 
height of greatness and glory , had plunged 
him into an abyss of misery , below the con- 
dition of mankind ! And what a lesson is this 
to those who are never contented with their 
condition , and who imagine they want all 
things , when but a single object is wanting 
to their insatiable avidity ! 

But such are the vicissitudes of human life , 
that even when hope forsook him , and while 
the hand was lifted up , he escaped the blow. 
From the lowest state of misery , he yet rose 
to the pinnacle of what is falsely called ho- 
nor and greatness. By the intrigues of a fac- 
tion , he returned to Rome , where he gave 
the most melancholy proofs that his misfor- 
tunes had neither made him wiser nor better , 
had neither taught him humility , compassion, 
nor moderation. Being at first , as it were 7 
only protected by China , who was then 
master of Rome , he affected an air of dejec- 
tion ; but his unextinguished ambition soon 
rendered him the soul of the party. Having 
now the sword in b his hand , and burning 

with 



( olZ ) 
with revenge and indignation , he cut down 
all before him : naturally merciless and cruel , 
he spared neither age , dignity , nor virtue ; 
a look , a nod , determined at once the fate 
of the most illustrious persons ; every one 
whom he in the least suspected or disliked 
was put to death , without the least form or 
ceremony. The slaughter , attended with 
plundering of houses and the most criminal 
violences , continued five days and five nights 
in Rome , which became one general scene of 
horror; unpitied shrieks and cries were every 
where heard ^ the canals poured down wiih 
human blood , while the lifeless bodies , even 
of the most eminent senators 9 were trempled 
under foot ; for it was prohibited to give 
them burial. These were the glorious fruits 
of ambition ! By these , without doubt , Ma- 
rius intended to render himself great and 
happy ; but he found it quite otherwise. The 
state of prosperity in which he was , did 
not calm the disquiets occasioned by the fear 
of Sylla's return , who was carrying on the 
war with Mithridates. So formidable an aven- 
ger made Marius tremble , and he could not 
even dissemble his fears. These thoughts tor- 
mented him continually , and occasioned his 
uights to pass without sleep , which began 
to affect his health and spirits. He , therefore , 
abandonned himsels to the excesses of the 
table , and to spend his nights in drinking 



( 3i4 ) 

whit his friends and dependants. By this re- 
gimen he soon inflamed his blood. He was 
attacked with a fever , which presently seized 
his head ; and , in in his delirium , he raved 
of nothing but the war with Mithridates : he 
imagined he had the command of it ; and not 
only spoke , but made gestures , and assumed 
the attitude of a man that fights , or of a ge- 
neral giving orders , so violent and incurable 
was the passion ? and so deeply had it taken 
root in his heart , with which ambition and 
jealousy uniting had inspired him for that 
command. Thus , says Plutarch , at the age 
of seventy, the only man who had been seven 
times consul , and possessing riches that might 
have sufficed for several kings , lamented as 
one suffering indigence , and died before he 
could put his views in execution. Wretch ! 
that instead of enjoying the gifts or fortu- 
ne with gratitude , suffered himself to be 
deprived of the present , in being wholly 
engrossed by a chimerical future. And yet 
Marius was one of the most famous Ro- 
mans. But surely when ^Marius , or Ale- 
xander the Great , or Julius Caesar , are 
treated as great men , or as heroes , it 
holds forth the most flagrant exemple of the 
weakness of mankind , who so little under- 
stand their interests as to annex the idea of 
greatness and heroism to the fatal art of de- 
stroying their species ; and who can admit , 



( 3i5 ) 

feat such heroism can subsist with vices most 
pernicious to society. 

His fortune seems scarcely more worth v 
of envy , than his conduct of praise. Fur if f 
instead of suffering ourselves to be dazzled by 
the vain splendor of riches and dignity , we 
consider what it cost him to acquire and se- 
cure the possession of them ; what intrigues - 9 
cabals , anxieties ■! add to these ? the torments 
of envy , fears , vexation , on being often 
forced to give way , and , lastly , the deplo- 
rable circumstances of his flight ; would he 
not have been more happy 9 if, tranquil ia 
the obscure state he was born , cultivating 
the little land , either left him by his father 
or acquired by himself ? he had led a life 
exempt from care and dangers,, 

To the foregoing examples I will cniy add 
that of Rome itself, of which Marius was 
both the preserver and executioner. What a 
dreadful situation was she in amidst all her 
prosperity and greatness ! She is victorious 
over all her enemies , and tyrannized over by 
her own citizens. She puts to flight and cuts 
to pieces foreign armies, and is drowned in 
her own blood. Ambition prompts her to 
give laws to all nations ; at the same time 
she cannot support her own , which change 
every instant with the caprice of the tyrants 
that oppress her : and it is even ihis prospe- 
rity that gives birth to all her calamities* 
Modest and happy as long as she was werfk 



(3i6) 

and low , it is good fortune that introduces 
the most horrid of vices and calamities into 
her bosom, Such is the error and uncertainty 
of human things ! So ignorant are men of 
what constitutes their real happiness ! Let us 
conclude then, that there is no solid felicity, 
either for states or private persons , but in 
the practice of virtue ; and that virtue is much 
more the -friend and companion of mediocrity, 
than of too great an elevation of fortune. 

The beauties of history. 
De la bienfaisance* 

Man is naturally a beneficent creature. The 
greatest pleasure wealth can afford is that of 
doing good. All men of estates are in effect 
but trustees for the benefit of the distressed , 
and will be so reckoned when they are to 
give an account. 

Defer not charities till death. He that doth 
so , is rather liberal of another man's substance 
than of his own. 

Men of the noblest dispositions think them- 
selves happiest when others share with them 
in their happiness. 

No object is more pleasing to the eye than 
the sight of a man whom you have obliged ; 
nor any music so agreeable to the ear as the 
voice of one who owns you for his benefactor. 



( 3i 7 ) 

It- is better to be of the number of tho3e 
who need relief, than of those who want 
hearts to give it. 

When we would exercise this virtue , wo 
ought to deliberate with ourselves whether 
our circumstances will answer our intended 
bounty ; for there are some who are generous 
to strangers , to the prejudice of themselves, 
their friends , and relations. 

We ought to consult the worth of the per- 
son whom we have chosen for the object of 
our liberality. The wicked , debauched, and 
extravagant are neither entitled to pity nor 
relief; but the cry of virtue in distress ought 
to be irresistible. 

That which is given by pride and osten- 
tation , is rather an ambition than a bounty. 
Let a benefit be ever so considerable , the? 
manner of confering it is the noblest part. 

When the proviuce of Azazene w r as rava- 
ged by the Romans , seven thousand Persians 
were brought prisonners to the city of Amida , 
where they fell into extreme want. Acases , 
bishop of the place , having assembled his 
clergy , represented to them , in the most 
pathetic terms , the misery of those unhappy 
prisoners. He then observed , that as the 
Almighty preferred mercy to sacrifice , he 
would certainly be better pleased with the 
relief of these his creatures , than with being 
served with gold and silver vessels in their 
churches. The clergy entertained his notion > 

O 3 



( 3i8 ) 
bo* only with readiness but with applause ; 
sold all the consecrated vessels , and, having 
maintained the Persians during the war , sent 
the seven thousand home at the conclusion of 
the peace 9 with money in their pockets. Va- 
renes , the Persian monarch , was so char- 
med with this action , that he sent to invite 
the bishop to his capital , where he received 
him with the utmost reverence , and did 
the Christians many favors at his request. 



About the year A. M 5782 ,. the island of 
Rhodes suffered very great damages by an 
earthquake : the walls of the city, with the 
arsenals , and the narrow passes in the ha- 
vens , where the ships of that island were 
laid up, were reduced to a very ruinous con- 
dition; and the famous Colossus , which was 
esteemed one of the wonders of the world , 
was thrown down and entirely destroyed, 
It is natural to think that this earthquake spa- 
red neither private nor public structures , nor 
even the temples of the gods. The loss sustain, 
jied by it amounted to immense sums ; and 
the Rhodians , reduced to the utmost distress , 
sent deputations to all the neighbouring prin- 
ces to implore their relief in that melancholy 
conjuncture. An emulation worthy of praise r 
and not to be paralleled in history , prevailed 
in favor of that deplorable city ; and Hiero and 
Galon in Scily , and Ptolemy in Egypti signa- 



( org ) 
lized themselves in a peculiar manner on that 
occasion. The two former of these princes 
contributed above an hundred talents , and 
erected two statues in the public place ; one 
of which represented the people of Rhodes , 
and the other those of Syracuse , the former 
was crowned by tlie latter , to testify , as 
Polybius observes, that the Syracusians thought 
the opportunity of relieving the Rhodians a 
favor and obligation to themselves. Ptolemy, 
besides his other expenses , which amounted 
to a very considerable sum , supplied that 
people with three hundred talents , a hun- 
dred thousand bushels of corn , and a suffi- 
cient quantity of timber for building ten gailies 
of ten benches of oars , and as many more of 
three benches , besides an infinite quantity of 
wood for other buildings j all which dona- 
tions were accompanied with three thousand 
talents , for erecting the Colossus anew. An- 
tigonus , Seleucus , Prusias , Mithridates , and 
all the princes , as well as cities , signalized 
their liberality on the occasion. Even private 
persons emulated each other in sharing hi this 
glorious act of humanity ; and historians have 
recorded that a lady, whose name was Chry- 
seis , furnished, from her own substance, an 
hundred thousand bushels of corn. Rhodes , 
in consequence of these liberalities , was ree- 
stablished in a more opulent and splendid 
state than she had ever experienced before , if 
W r Qjon\j except the Colossus. 

Tee beauties of ristoky*- 



( 320 ) 

De la Clemence. 

Clemency is not only the privilege , the 
honor , and the duty of a prince , but it is 
also his security , and better than all garri- 
sons , forts , and guards , to preserve himself 
and his dominions in safety. It is the brightest 
jewel in a monarch's crown. 

As meekness moderates anger, so clemency 
moderates punishment. 

That prince is truly royal , who masters 
himself, looks upon all injuries as below 
him , and governs by equity and reason , not 
by passion. 

Clemency is profitable for all ; does well in 
private persons , but is much more benilicial 
in princes. 

Mischiefs contemned , lose their force. 

Deucetius , according to Diodorus , was 
chief over the people who were properly cal- 
led Sicilians. Having united them ail into one 
body, he became very powerful, and formed 
several great enterprises. 

It was he who built the city of Palica , near 
the temple of the gods , called Palici. This 
city was famous on account of some wonders 
which are related of it ; and still more for the 
sacred nature of the oaths which were there 
taken , the violation whereof was said to be 
always followed by a sudden and exemplary 
punishment. This was a secure asylum ft«r 



( 321 ) 

all persons who were oppressed by superior 
power j and especially for slaves who were 
unjustly abused or cruelly treated by their 
masters. They continued in safety id this 
temple , till certain arbiters and mediators 
had made their peace ; and there was not a 
single instance of masters having ever for- 
feited the promise he had made to pardon his 
slaves. 

This Deucetius, after having been successful 
on a great many occasions , and gained several 
victories , particularly over the Syracusians , 
saw his fortune change on a sudden by the loss 
of a battle , and was abandoned by the grea- 
test part of his forces. In the consternation 
and despondency into which so general and 
sudden a desertion threw him , he formed 
such a resolution as despair only could sug- 
gest. He withdrew in the night to Syracuse , 
advanced as far as the great square in the 
city , and there falling prostrate at the foot 
of the altar; he abandoned his life and domi- 
nions to the mercy of the Syracusians ; that 
is , to his professed enemies. The singularity 
of this spectacle drew great numbers of peo- 
ple to it. The magistrates immediately con- 
vened the people , and debated on the affair* 
They first heard the orators , whose business 
Was generally to address the people by their 
speeches ; and these animated them prodi- 
giously against Deucetius , as a public enemy 
whom Providence seemed to throw in their 

O 5 



( 022 ) 

way , to revenge and punish , by his deaths 
all the injuries he had done the republic. A. 
speech in this style struck all the virtuous, 
part of the assembly with horror. The most 
ancient and the wisest of the senators repre- 
sented , « That they were not to consider 
what punishment Deucetius deserved , but 
how it behooved the Syracusians to behave 
on that occasion y that they ougj^t not to 
look upon him any longer as an enemy , but. 
as a suppliant 9 a character by which his 
person became sacred and inviolable. There 
was a goddess ( Nemesis ) who took ven- 
geance of crimes , especially of cruelty and 
impiety , and who , doubtless , would not 
suffer that, to go unpunished ; that besides 
the baseness and inhumanity there is in insul- 
ting the unfortunate , and in crushing those 
who are already under, one's foot , it was 
worthy the grandeur, and. goodnes natural to 
the Syracusians , to exert their clemency 
even to those who least deserved it. » 

All the people came into this opinion v and 
with one consent spared Deucetiu's life. He 
was ordered to reside in Corinth ; all the 
Syracusians engaged to furnish Deucetius 
with all things necessary for his subsisting 
honorably there. What reader , who com- 
pares these two different opinions ; does not* 
perceive which of them was the noblest aud 
most, generous ! 



( 323 ) 

The Athenians having made war upon the 
Syracusians , the army of the former , under 
the command of Nicias and Demosthenes , 
was totally defeated , and the generals obli- 
ged to surrender at discretion. The victors , 
having entered their capital in triumph , the 
next day a council was held to deliberate 
what was to be done with the prisoners. 
Diocles , one of the leaders of the greatest 
authority among the people , proposed , that 
all the Athenians who were born of free pa- 
rents , and all such Sicilians as had joined 
with them , should be imprisoned, and be 
maintained on bread and water only •> that 
the slaves , and all the Attics should be pu- 
blicly sold -> and that the two Athenian ge- 
nerals should be first scourged with rods , 
and then put to death. This last article ex- 
ceedingly disgusted all wise and compassio- 
nate Syracusians. Hermocrates 5 who was 
very famous for his probity and justice , at- 
tempted to make some remonstrances to the 
people , but they would not hear ; and the 
shouts which echoed from all sides prevented 
him from continuing his speech. At that ins- 
tant , an ancient man , venerable for his 
great age and gravity , who in this war had 
lost two sons , the only heirs to his name and 
estate , made his servants carry him to the 
tribunal for harangues j and , the instant h.e 
appeared 9 a profomvl silence was made* 

6 



(324 ) 

« You here behold , » says he , « and un- 
fortunate father , who has felt more than any 
other Syracusian the fatal effects of this war , 
by the death of two sons , who formed all 
the consolation , and were the only supports 
of my old age. I cannot , indeed , forbear 
admiring their courage and felicity in sacri- 
ficing to their contry's welfare a life which 
they would one day have been deprived of 
by the common course of nature j but then 
I cannot but be sensibly effected with the 
cruel wound which their death hath made in 
my heart ; nor forbear hating and despising 
the Athenians , the authors of this unhappy 
war, as the murderers of my children. But, 
however , 1 cannot conceal one circumstance , 
-which is , that I am less sensible for my pri- 
vate afflictions than for the honor of my 
country , and I see it exposed to eternal in- 
famy , hy the barbarous advice which is now 
given you. The Athenians, indeed, merit 
the worst kind of treatment that could be in- 
flicted on them , for so unjustly declaring 
war against us : but have not the gods , the 
just avengers of crimes , punished them , and 
avenged us sufficiently ! When their generals 
laid down thrir arms and surrendered , did 
not they do this in hopes of having their lives 
spared I And if we put them to death , will 
it be possible for us to avoid the just reproach 
of our having violated the law of nations K 
&utf dishonored our victory hy unheard -of 



( 325 ) 
cruelty ! What will you suffer your glory to 
be thus sullied in the face of the whole world, 
and have it said v that a nation who first de- 
dicated a temple to Clemency has not found 
any in yours I Surely , victories and triumphs 
do not give immortal glory to a city ; but the 
exercising mercy towards a vanquished ene- 
my , tfie using moderation in the greatest 
prosperity , and the fearing to offend the 
gods by a haughty and insolent pride. You 
doubtless have not forgotten that this Nicias, 
whose fate you are going to pronounce , was 
the very man who pleaded your cause in the 
assembly of the Athenians , and who em- 
ployed all his credit , and the whole power 
of his eloquence , to dissuade his country 
from embarking in this war. Should you ? 
therefore , pronounce sentence of death on 
this worthy general, would it be a just re- 
ward for the zeal he showed for your interest I 
With regard to myself , death would be less 
grievous to me , than the sight of so horrid an 
injustice committed by my countrymen and 
fellow-citizens. » 

The beauties of histoid 

De la Compassion. 

Compassion is the sense of our own mis- 
fortunes in those of another man. It is a wise 
foresight of the disasters that may befall us , 
which induces us to assist others , in order 
to engage them to return it on like occasiopsj 



( 326 } 
so that the services we do the unfortunate 
are in reality so many anticipated kindnesses, 
to ourselves. 

Compassion proper to mankind appears , 
Which nature witnessed when she lent us tears ,. 
To show by pitying looks , and melting eyes , 
How with a suffering friend we sympathize. 
Who can all sense of other's ills escape , 
Is but a brute , at beast, in human .'shape. 

It was a custom with Alexander the Great: 
to oblige the captive women whom he car- 
ried along with him to sing songs after the 
manner of their country. He happened among 
these women to perceive one who appeared 
in deeper affliction than the rest ; and. who 
by a modest, and at the same time a noble 
confusion 9 discovered a greater reluctance 
than the others to appear in public. She was 
a perfect beauty , which was very much 
heightened by her bashfulness r whilst she 
threw her eyes on the ground ,, and did all 
she could te conceal her face. The king soon 
imagined ,. by her air and mien , that she was* 
not of vulgar birth ; and , inquiring into it 9 . 
the lady answered , that she was grandciugh- 
ter to Octius , who not long before swayed 
the Persian sceptre , and daughter of his son ; 
that she had married Hyslaspes , who was 
related to Darius , and general of a great 
army. Alexander being touched with com- 
passion j. when he heard the unhappy fate ofV 



e 327 )• 

& rarincess of the royal blood, and the sad 
condition to which she was reduced , not 
only gave her liberty , but returned all her 
possessions, and caused her husband to be 
sought for , in order that she might be resto*- 
lied to bim. 



As Alexander drew near the city of Perse* 
polis , he perceided a large body of men 
who exhibited a memorable example of the 
greatest misery. These were about four thou- 
sand Greeks , very far advanced in years ^ 
who having been made prisoners of war , had 
suffered all the torments which the Persian, 
tyranny could afflict. The hands of some had 
been cut off , the feet of others; and other% 
again had lost their noses and ears: alter 
which the Persians having impressed by fir© 
barbarous characters on their faces, had the 
inhumanity, to keep them as so many laughing- 
Stocks , with which they sported perpetuallyo. 
They appeared like so many shadows rather 
than men ; speech being almost the only 
thing by which they were known to be such* 
Alexander could not refrain from tears at this 
sight; and as they unanimously besought him 
to commiserate their condition, he bid them ,, 
with t}ie utmost tenderness, not to despond j 
and assured them ? that they should again, 
see their wifes and native country. This pro- 
posal 3 which one. might .supgo.se should na? 



( 328 ) 

tarally have filled them with joy , seemed 
to heighten their misery ; and , with tears 
in their eyes* « How will it be possible , » 
said some of them , « for us to appear pu- 
blicly before all Greece , in the dreadful con- 
dition to which we are reduced : a condition 
still more shameful than dissatisfactory. The 
best way to hear misery is to conceal it ; 
and no country is so sweet to the wretched 
as solitude , and an oblivion of their past 
misfortunes. » They , therefore , besought the 
king to permit them to continue in a country 
where they had spent so many years , and to 
end their days among those who were already 
accustomed to their misfortunes. Alexander 
granted their request , and presented each of 
them three thousand drachmas , five men's 
suits of clothes, the same number of women's , 
two couple of oxen to plough their lands f 
and corn to sow them : he commanded the 
governor of the province not to suffer them 
to be molested in any manner , and ordered 
that they should be free from taxes and tri- 
butes of every kind. Such behaviour as this 
was truly royal. Thrice happy those princes 
who are affected with ihe pleasure which 
arises from the doing of good actions , and 
who melt with pity for the unfortunate ! 

The spurns of histoid 



(32 9 ) 

Naissance de Robinson Crusoe. Ses pre- 
mieres aventures* 

I was born in the year 1602 , in the city 
of York , of a good family , though not of that 
country , my father being a foreigner of Bre- 
men , who settled first at Hull : he got a 
good estate by merchandize , and leaving off 
his trade , lived afterwards at York , from 
whence he had married my mother , whose 
relations were named Robinson , a very good 
family in that country , and from whom I 
was called Robinson Kreutznaer; butby usual 
corruption of words in England , we are 
now called , nay , we call ourselves , and 
write our name Crusoe ; and so wy compa- 
nions always called me. 

I had two elder brothers , one of whom 
was a lieutenant-colonel to an English regi- 
ment of foot in Flanders , formerly comman- 
ded by the famous Colonel Lockhart , and 
was killed at the battle near Dunkirk , against 
the Spaniards : what became of my second 
brother I never knew , any more than my 
faiher or mother did know what was become 
of rne. 

Being the third son of the family , and not 
bred to any trade , my head began to be fil- 
led very early with rambling thoughts : my 
father , who was very ancient , had given 
me a competent share of learning , as fa f as 



( 33o ) 

Iiouse-education and a country free-school 
generally go , and designed me for the law y 
but I would be satisfied with nothing but 
going to sea : and my inclination to this led 
me so strongly against the will , nay the com- 
mands , of my father , and against all the en- 
treaties and persuasions of my mother and 
other friends , that there seemed to be some- 
thing fatal in that propension of nature , ten- 
ding directly to the life of misery which was 
to befal me. 

My father, a wise and grave man, gava 
me serious and excellent counsel against what 
he foresaw was my design. He called me one 
Hiorniag into his chamber , where he was- 
confined by the gout , and expostulated very 
warmly with me upon this subject ; he asked 
me what reasons , more than a mere wande- 
ring inclination , I had for leaving my fa- 
ther's house and my native country , where 
I might be well introduced , and had a pros- 
pect of raising my fortune by application and 
industry , with a life of ease and pleasure : 
lie told me , it was men of desperate fortunes 
on one hand , or of aspiring superior fortu- 
nes on the other, and who went abroad upon 
adventures , to rise bv enter prize , and make 
themselves famous in undertakings of a na- 
ture out of the common road ; and these things 
were all either too far above me , or too far 
below me ; that mine was the middle state ,, 
or what might be called the upper station oh 



(33i ) 
low Hie , wich he had found , by long expe- 
rience , was the best state in the world , the 
most suited to human happiness, not exposed 
to the miseries and hardships , the labour and 
sufferings of the mechanic part of mankind ^ 
and not em brassed with the pride , luxury ^ 
ambition , and envy of the upper part of man- 
kind. He told me I might judge of the hnppi- 
nefs oithis state , by this one thing, viz. that 
this was the state of life which all other peo- 
ple envied ; that kings have frequently lamen- 
ted the miserable consequences of being born 
to great things , and wished they had been 
placed in the middle of the two extremes r 
between the mean and the great ; that the wise 
man gave his testimony to this , as the just 
stan. lard of true felicity , "when he oraved to 
hava neither proverty nor riches. 

He bade me observe it > and I should always 
find , that the calamities of life ware shared 
among the upper and lower part ot mankind 5. 
but that the middle station had the fewest dis- 
asters , and was not exposed to so many vi- 
cissitudes as the higher or lower part of man- 
kind i nay , they were not subjected to so 
many distempers and uneasinesses , either of 
body or mind , as those were , who , by vi- 
cious living , luxury , and extravagancies 
on one hand , or by hard labour , want o£ 
necessaries , and mean or insufficient diet r 
on the other hand , bring distempers upon 
/.selvss by ths natural consequence^ o£ 



( ~J2 ) 

their way of living 5 that the middle station 
of life was calculated for all kind of virtues # 
and all kind of enjoymens 5 that Peace and 
Plenty were the handmaids of a middle for- 
tune j that temperance , moderation , quiet- 
ness , health, society, all agreable diversions f 
and all desirable pleasures , were the blessings 
attending the middle station of life ; that this 
way men went silently and smoothly through 
the world , and comfortably out of it ; not 
embarrassed with the labour of the hands , or 
of the head ; not sold to a life of slavery for 
daily bread , or harrassed with perplexed 
circumstances , wich rob the soul of peace , 
and the body of rest ; not enraged with the 
passion of envy , or the secret burning lust 
of ambition for great things ; but in easy cir- 
cumstances, sliding gently through the world, 
and sensibly tasting the sweets of living , wi- 
thout the bitter ; feeling that they are happy , 
and learning by every day's experience to 
know it more sensibly. 

After this , he pressed me earnestly , and 
in the most affectionate manner , not to play 
the young man , or to precipitate myfelf into 
miseries , which nature, and the station of life 
I was born in , seemed to have provided 
against ; that I was under no necessity of see- 
king my bread ; that he would do well forme , 
and endeavour to enter me fairly into the sta- 
tion of life which he had been just recom- 
mending to me; and that if I was not very 



( 333 ) 

easy and happy in the world , it must be my 
mere fate or fault that must hinder it ; and 
that he should have nothing to answer for, 
having thus discharged his duty , in warning 
me against measures which he knew would 
he to my hurt : in a word , that as he w r ould 
do very kind things for me , if I would stay 
and settle at home , as he directed ; so he 
would not have so much hand in my misfor- 
tunes , as to gave me any encouragement to 
go away : and to close all , he told me , I had 
my elder brother for an example , to whom 
he had used the same earnest persuasions , to 
keep him from going into the Low Country 
wars , but could not prevail , his young de- 
sires promting him to run into the army, whe- 
re he was killed ; and though , he said , he 
would not cease to pray for me , yet he would 
venture to say to me , that if I dit take this 
foolish step , God would not bless me ; and I 
would have leisure hereafter to reflect upon 
having neglected his counsel , when there 
might be none to assist in my recovery. 

I observed in this last part of his disconrse, 
wich was truly prophetic , though I suppose 
my father did not know it to be so himself; 
fcsay I observed the tears run down his face 
very plentifully , especially when he spoke 
of my brother who was killed ; and that when 
he spoke of my having leisure to repent , and 
none to assist me , he was so moved , that he 
kroke off the discourse, and told me his heart 



( 33.| ) 
was so full he could say no more to 

I was sincerely afflicted with this discourse , 
&s indeed who could be otherwife ; and I re- 
solved not to think of going abroad any more^ 
but to settle at home, according to my fa- 
ther's desire : but , alas ! a few days wore it 
all off; and , in short , to prevent any of my 
father's farther importunities , in a few weeks 
after , I resolved to run quite aw T ay from him. 
However , I did not act so hastily neither , as 
the first heat of my resolution prompted : but 
I took my mother at a time when I thought 
her a little pleasanter than ordinary ; and 
told her , that my thoughts were so entirely 
foent upon seeing the world , that I should 
never settle to any thing with resolution 
enough to go through with it ; and my father 
had better give me his consent , than force me 
to go without it ; that I was now eighteen 
yeats old , which was too late to go appren*- 
tice to a trade , or clerk to an attorney ; that 
I was sure .. if I did , I should never serve out 
my time , but I should certainly run away 
from my master before my time was out , and 
go to sea } and if she would speak to my far- 
ther to let me go one voyage abroad , if I 
came home again, and did not like it , I would, 
go no more, and I would promise , by a dou* 
ble diligence , to recover the time I had lost. 

This put my mother into a great passion : 
she told me , she knew it would be to no pur- 
pose to speak to my father upon any such 



( 335 ) 

subject ; that he knew too well what was 
my interest , to give his consent to any thing 
so much for my hurt ; and that she wonde- 
red how I could think of any such thing , 
after the discourse I had had with my father, 
and such kind and tender expressions as she 
knew my father had used to me : and that , in 
short , if I would ruin myself , there was 
no help for me ; but I might depend 1 should 
never have their consent to it ; that , for her 
part , she would not have so much hand in 
my destruction ; and I should never have it 
to say , that my mother was willing , when 
my father was not. 

Though my mother refused to move it to 
my father , yet I heard afterwards , that she 
reported all the discourse to him : and that my 
father , after shewing a great concern at it , 
said to her , with a sigh. — « That boy 
» might be happy, if he would stay at homes 
» but if he goes abroad , he will be the most 
» miserable wretch that ever was born J I 
v can give no consent to it. » 

It was not till almost a year after this that 
I broke loose 9 though in the meam time I 
continued obstinately deaf to all proposals of 
settling to business , and frequently expostu- 
lated with my father and mother , about 
their being so positively determined against 
whcU they knew my inclinations prompted 
me to. But being one day at Hull , whither 
I WQiU casually , and without any purpose of 



( 336 ) 
making an elopement at that time , I say 
being there , and one of my companions 
being going by sea to London , in his father's 
ship , and prompting me to go with them , 
with the common alluremsnt of a seafaring 
man , that it should cost me nothing for my 
passage ; I consulted neither father or mother 
any more , nor so much as sent them word 
of it ; but leaving them to hear of it as thoy 
might , without asking God's blessing or my 
father's , without any consideration of cir- 
cumstances or consequences , and in an ill- 
hour. ( God knows ) on the first of Septem- 
ber, i65r , I went on board a ship bound 
for London. Never any young adventurer's 
misfortunes , I believe , began sooner , or 
continued longer, than mine : the ship was 
do sooner got out of the Humber , but the 
■wind began to blow , and the sea to rise in 
a most frightful manner ; and as I had never 
been at sea before, I was most inexpressibly 
sick in body, and terrified in mind. I began 
now seriously to reflect upon what I had 
done , and how justly I was overtaken by 
the judgment of Heaven , for so my wickedly 
leaving my father's house , and abandoning 
my duty ; all the good counsel of my parents , 
my father's tears , and my mother's entreaties , 
came now fresh into my mind ; and my con- 
science , which was not yet come to the pitch 
©f hardness to which it has been since , re- 
proached me with the contempt of advice , 

and 



f 5Z 7 ) 
and the breach of my duty to God and my 
father. 

AH this while the storm encreased , and 
the sea ran very high , though nothing like 
what I have seen many times since j no , 
nor what I saw a few days after ; but it 
was enough to affect me then , who was but 
a young sailor , and had never known any 
thing of the matter. I expected every wave 
would have swallowed us up 5 and that every 
time the ship fell down , as I thought it did f 
in the trough or hollow of the sea , we should 
never rise more. In this agony of mind I made 
many vows and resolutions , that if it would 
please God to spare my life in this one voya« 
ge , if ever I got once my foot upon dry land 
again , I would go directly home to my fa- 
ther , and never set it into a ship again while 
I lived ; that I would take his advice 9 and 
never run myself into such miseries as these 
any more. Now I saw plainly the goodness 
of his observations about the middle station of 
life , how easy , how comfortable he had li- 
ved all his days , and never had been exposed 
to tempest at sea , or trouble on shore ; and , 
in short, I resolved that I would , like a true 
repenting prodigal , go home to my father. 

These wise and sober thoughts continued 
all the while the storm lasted , and indeed 
some time after ; but the next day the wind 
was abated , and the sea calmer , and I be- 
gan to be a little inured to it. However I 

P 



( 338 ) 
was very grave for all that day , being also 
a little seasick still ; but towards night the 
weather cleared up , the wind was quite over, 
and a charming fine evening followed ; the 
sun went down perfectly clear ; and rose so 
the next morning , and having little or no 
wind , and a smooth sea , the sun shining 
upon it , the sight was , as I thought , the 
most delightful I ever saw. 

I had slept well in the night, and was now 
no more sea-sick , but very cheerful ; looking 
"with wonder upon the sea , that was so rough 
and terrible the day before , and could be so 
calm, and so pleasant , in so little a time af- 
ter : and now, lest my good resolutions should 
coutinue , my companion , who had , indeed , 
enticed me away, came to me — «Well, Bob,» 
says he, « clapping me upon the shoulder,» how 
$ do you do after it 1 1 warrant you werefrigh- 
» ted , were not you last night , when it blew 
£ but a cap full of wind ? — . ,, A cap full dye 
» call it ! » said I , it was a terrible storm. »— A 
» storm , you fool , you ! » replies he ,» do you 
>> call thata storm? Why, it was nothing at all. 
» Give us but a good ship, and sea room, and we 
v> think nothing of such a squall of wind as 
» that , but , you are but a fresh-water sailor, 
» Bob ; come , let us make a bowl of punch , 
» and we'll forget all that. Dye see what 
» charming weather't is now^To make short 
this sad part of my story, we went the way of 
all sailors i the punch was made ? aud I was 



( 33g ) 
made half drunk with it, and in that onft 
night's wickedness I drowned all my repen- 
tance , al my reflections on my past conduct , 
and all my resolutions for the future. In a word , 
as the sea was returned to its smoothness of 
surface , and settled calmness , by the abate- 
ment of that storm , so the hurry of my thou- 
ghts being over, my fears and apprehensions 
of being swallowed up by the sea , being for- 
gotten , and the current of my former desires 
returned , I entirely forgot the vows and pro- 
mises I made in my distress. I found , indeed , 
some intervals of reflection , and the serious 
thoughts did , as it were , endeavour to return 
again sometimes ; but I shook them off , and 
rouzed myself from them , as it were from a 
distemper ; and applying myself to drinking 
and company , soon mastered the return of 
those fits , ( for so I called them $ ) and I had , 
in five or six days , got as complete a victory 
over my conscience , as any young fellow that 
resolved not to be troubled with it could de- 
sire : But I was to have another trial for it 
still ; and Providence , as in such cases gene- 
rally happens , resolved to leave me entirely 
without excuse ; for if I would not take this 
for a deliverance , the next was to be such a 
one , as the worst and most hardened wretch 
among us would confess both the danger and 
the mercy. 

The sixth day of our being at sea we came 
Into Yarmouth roads 5 the wind having been 

P 2 



( 34o ) 

contrary, and the weather calm , we had made 
but little way since the storm. Here we were 
obliged to come to an anchor , and here we 
lay * the wind continuing contrary , viz. at 
S. W. for seven or eight days; during which 
time, a great many ships from Newcastle came 
into the same roads ; as the common harbour 
where the ships might wait for a wind for the 
river. 

We had not , however, rid here so long , but 
we should have tided it up the river, had not 
the wind blew too fresh ; and , after we had 
lain four or five days, blew very hard. How- 
ever , the roads being reckoned as good as an 
harbour, the anchorage good , and our ground 
tackle very strong , our men were unconcer- 
ned , and not in the least apprehensive of dan- 
ger j but spent the time in rest and mirth, af- 
ter the manner of the sea ; but the eighth day 
in the morning, the wind increased, and we 
had all hands to work to strike our top-masts , 
and make every thing snug and close , that 
the ship might ride as easy possible. By noon 
the sea ran very high indeed , and our ship rid 
forecastle-in , shipped several seas , and we 
thought once or twice our anchor had come 
home : upon which our master ordered out the 
fleet anchor ; so that we rode with two an- 
chors a-head , and the cables weered out to 
the betther end. 

By this time it blew a terrible storm indeed ; 
and now I began to see terror and amazement 



( 34* ) 

in the faces even of the seamen themselves. The 
master, though vigilant in the business of pre- 
serving the ship , yet as he went in and out 
of his cabin by me , I could hear him, softly 
to himself, say several times— « Lord be mer- 
ciful to us ! we shall be all lost , we shall be 
all undone ! » and the like. During these first 
hurries I was stupid , lying still in my cabin , 
which was in the steerage, and cannot describe 
my temper. I could ill resume the first penitence 
which I had so apparently trampled upon, and 
hardened myself against : I thought the bitter- 
nefs of death had been passed ; and that this 
would be nothing too , like the first. But when 
the master himself came by me , as I said just 
now, and said we should be all lost , 1 was 
dreadfully frighted. I got up out of my cabin 9 
and looked out: but such a dismal sight I never 
saw ; the sea went mountains high , and broke 
upon us every three or four minutes. When I 
could look about, I could see nothing but dis- 
tress round us : two ships that rid near us, we 
found , had cut their masts by the board, being 
deep laden ; and our men cried out , that a ship 
which rid about a mile ahead of us was foun- 
dered. Two more ships, being driven from their 
anchors , were run out of the roads to sea , at all 
adventures , and that not with a mast standing. 
The light ships fared the best, as not so much la- 
bouring in the sea ; but two or three of them 
drove , and came close by us , running away 
with only their sprit-sail out before the wind* 

P5 



( 342 ) 

Towards the evening, the mate and boats* 
Wain begged the master of our ship to let them 
cut away the foremast, which he was very un- 
willing to do : but the boatswain protesting to 
him, that if he did not, the ship would founder, 
he consented ; and when they had cut away the 
foremast, the main-mast stood so loose , and 
shook the ship so much, they were obliged to 
cur her away also , and make a clear deck. 

Any one may judge what a condition 1 must 
be in , at all this , who was but a young sailor, 
and who had been in such a fright before at but 
a little. But it I can express at this distance the 
thoughts I had about me at the time , I was in 
ten-fold more horror of mind upon account of 
my former convictions ; and the having retur- 
ned from them to the resolutions 1 had wicked- 
ly taken at first , than I was at death itself; and 
these , added to the terror of the storm, put me 
into such a condition , that I can by no words 
describe it. But the worst was not come yet ; 
the storm continued with such fury , that the 
seamen themselves acknowledged they had ne- 
ver seen a worse. We had a good ship , but she 
was deep laden , and wallowed in the sea, that 
the seamen every now and then cried out she 
would founder. It wasmy advantage in one res- 
pect, that I did not know what they meant by 
founder , till I enquired. However , the storm 
was so violent , that I saw what is not often 
seen , the master , the boatswain and some 
others more sensible than the rest , at their 



( 343 ) 
prayers , and expecting every moment the ship 
would go to the bottom. In the middle of the 
night , and under all the rest of our distresses , 
one of the men that had been down on purpose 
to see , cried out we had sprung a leak ; ano- 
ther said, there was four feet water in the hold. 
Then all hands were called to the pump. At 
that very word my heart , as y thought, died 
within me ; and I fell backwards upon the side 
of my bed where I sat , into the cabin. Howe- 
ver , the men rouzed me , and told me , that I 
that was able to do nothing before , was as 
Well able to pump as another ; at which I stir- 
red up , and went to the pump , and worked 
very heartily. While this was doing,the master 
seeing some light colliers, who, not able to ride 
out the storm , were obliged to slip and rum 
away to the sea, and would come near us, orde- 
red to fire a gun as a signal of distress. I , who 
knew nothing what they meant,was so surpri- 
zed , that I thought the ship had broke*, or so- 
me dreadful thing happened ; in a word , I was 
so surprised , that I fell down in a swoon. As 
this was a time when every body had his own 
life to think of, nobody minded me , or what 
was become of me •> but another man stepped 
up to the pump, and, thrusting me aside with 
his foot , let me lie , thinking I had beed dead ; 
and it was a great while before I came to myself. 
We worked on , but the water increasing 
in the hold,it was apparent that the ship would 
founder $ and though the storm began to abate 

P4 



( 344) 
a little , yet as it was not possible she could 
swim till we might run into any port , so the 
master continued firing guns for help ; and a 
light ship , who had rid it out just a head of 
us , ventured a boat out to help us. It was with 
the utmost hazard the boat came near us ; but 
5t was impossible fur us to get on board, or for 
the boat to lie near the ship's side , till at last 
the men rowing very heartily, and venturing 
their lives to save ours , our men cast them a 
rope over the stern with a buoy to it, and then 
veered it out a great leuglh , which they, after 
much labour and hazard , took hold of, and 
we hauled them close under our stern , and 
got all into their boat. It was to no purpose 
for them or us , after we were in the boat , to 
think , of reaching to their own ship ; so all 
agreed to let her drive, and only to pull her 
in towards shore as much as we could ; and 
our master promised them , that if the boat 
was staved upon shore , he woul make it good 
to their master ; so partly rowing , and partly 
driving, our boat went away to the north- 
ward, sloping towards the shore, ^almost as 
far as Wintertonnesse. 

We were not much more than a quarter of 
an hour out of our ship , but we saw her sink ; 
and then I understood , for the first time, what 
was meant by a ship foundering in the sea. I 
must acknowledge I had hardly eyes to look 
tip, when the seamen told me she was sinkings 
for, from that moment they rather put me into 



( 3 4 5 ) 

the boat ; than that T might be said to go in ., 
my heart was as it were dead within me; 
partly with horror of mind , and the thoughts 
of what was yet before me. 

While we were in this condition , the men 
yet labouring at the oar to bring the boat near 
the shore , we could see (when our boat moun- 
ting the waves , we were able to see the shore) 
a great many people running along the strand 
to assist us when we should come near : but 
we made but slow way towards the shore 9 
nor were we able to reach the shore , till being 
past the light-house at Winterton , the shore 
falls off to the westward towards Cromer; and 
so the land broke off a little the violence of 
the wind. Here w r e got in , and though not 
without much difficulty , got all safe on shore t 
and walked afterwards on foot to Yarmouth 5 
where , as unfortunate men , w r e were used 
with great humanity , as well by the magis- 
trates of L the town , who assigned us good 
quarters , as by particular merchants and 
owners of ships , and had money given us 
sufficient to carry us either to London , of 
back to Hull , as we thought fit. 

Had I now had the sense to have gone back 
to Hull, and have gone home, I had been 
happy, and my father , an emblem of our Bles- 
sed Saviour's parable , had even killed the fat- 
ted calf for me ; for, hearing the ship I went 
away in , was cast away in Yarmouth Road , 
it was a great while before he had any assu-"* 
ranees that I was not drowned. 



(346) 

But my ill-fate pushed me on now, with 
an obstinacy that nothing could resist ; and 
though I had several times loud calls from my 
reason and my more composed judgment , to 
go home , yet I had no power to do it ; I 
know not what to call this ; nor will I urge , 
that it is a secret-over-ruling decree that hur- 
ries us on , to be the instruments of our own 
destruction , even though it be before us , and 
that we push upon it with our eyes open. Cer- 
tainly , nothing but some such decreed unavoi- 
dable misery attending , and which it was im- 
possible for me to escape, could have pushed 
me forward against the calm reasonings and 
parsuasions of my most retired thoughts , and 
against two such visible instructions as I had 
met with in my firs attempt. 

My comrade , who had helped to harden 
me before , and who was the master's son 9 
was now less forward than I. The first time 
he spoke to me after we were at Y armouth ; 
which was not till two or three days , for we 
were separated in the town to several quar- 
ters ; I say , the first time he saw me , it ap- 
peared his tone was altered ; and , looking 
very melancholy , and shaking his head , as- 
ked me how I did ; and telling his father 
who I was , and how I had come this voyage 
only for a trial , in order to go farther abroad; 
his father turning to me with a very grave and 
concerned tone , « Young man , » says he , 
« you ought never to go to sea any more ; 



(347) 
» you ought to take this for a plain and visi- 
» ble token , that you are not to be a featuring 
» man. « — » Why , Sir , « said I ; will 
» you go to sea no more I « — » That is ano- 
» ther case , » said he ; « it is my calling , 
p and therefore my duty ; but as you made 
» this voyage for a trial , you see wha a taste 
» Heaven has given you of what you are to 
» expert , if you persist ; perhaps all this has 
» befallen us on your account ; like Jonah 
» in the ship of Tarsnish. Pray , » conli- 
» nues he , what are you I and on what ac- 
» count did you go to sea 1 » Upon that I 
told him some of my flory ; at the end of 
which , he burst out with a strange kind of 
passion. « What had I done , » says he , » 
» that such an unhappy wretch should com© 
S> into my ship ! I would not set my foot in 
» the same ship with thee again for a thou- 
)> sand pounds. » This iudeed was , as I said , 
an excursion of his spirits , which were yet 
agitaded by the sense of his loss , and was 
farther than he could have authority to go : 
however , he afterwards talked very gravely 
to me , exhorting me to go back to my father, 
and not tempt Providence to my ruin ; told 
me I might see a visihie hand of Heaven 
against me : <s And young man , » said he f % 
« depend upon it , if you do not go back , 
» wherever you go , you will meet with no- 
» thing but disasters and disappointmens, till 
£ your father's words are fulfilled upou you. * 



(348 ) 

We parted soon after ; for I made him little 
answer , and I saw him no more -> which 
way he went , I know not. As for me , ha- 
ving some money in my pocket, I travelled 
to London , by land -> and there , as well as 
on the road , had many struggles with my- 
self , what course or life I should take , and 
whether I should go home , or go to sea. 

As to going home, shame opposed the best 
motions that offered to my thoughts ; and it 
immediately occurred to me how I should be 
laughed at among the neighbours , and should 
be ashamed to see , not my father and mother 
only, but even every body else. From whence 
I have since often observed how incongruous 
and irrational the common temper of mankind 
is , especially of youth , to that reason that 
ought to guide them in such cases ; viz. that 
they are not ashamed to sin , and yet are asha- 
med to repent ; not ashamed of the action , 
for which they ought justly to be esteemed 
fools: but are ashamed of the returning, w T hich 
only can make them esteemed wise men. 

In this state of life , however , I remained 
some time , uncertain what measures to take , 
and what course of life to lead. An irresisti- 
ble reluctance continued to goiug home ; and 
as I staid awhile , the remembrance of distress 
I had been in , wore off ; and as that abated , 
the little motion 1 had in my desires to return, 
wore off with it ; till at last I quite laid aside 
the thoughts of it, arid looked out for a voyage. 



( 349 ) 

That evil influence which carried me first 
aw ay from my father's house , which hurried 
me into the wild and indigested notion of rai- 
siug my fortune , and that impressed those con- 
ceits so forcibly upon me as to make me deaf 
to all good advice , and to the entreaties i and 
even the commands of my father ; I say, the 
same influence 9 whatever it was , presented 
the most unfortunate of all enterprizes to my 
view ; and I went on hoard a vessel bound 
to the coast of Africa , or , as our sailors vul- 
garly call it , a voyage to Guinea. 

It was my great misfortune , that in all these 
adventures I did not ship myself as sailor ; 
whereby , though I might indeed have worked 
a little harder than ordinary , yet, at the same 
time , I had learned the duty and office of a 
force-mast-man ; and in time might have qua- 
lified myself for a mate or lieutenant , if not 
for a master. But as it was always my fate to 
chuse for the worst , so I did here ; for having 
money in my pocket , and good cloaths on 
my back, I would always go on board in the 
habit of a gentleman ; and so I neither had 
any business in the ship , nor learned to do any. 

It was my lot first of all to fall into pretty 
good company in London , which does not 
always happen to such loose and unguided 
young fellows as I then was ; the devil gene- 
rally not omitting to lay some snare for them 
very early ; but it was not so with me. I first 
became acquainted with the master of a ship 



( 35o ) 

who had been on the Coast of Guinea , and 
who , having had very good success there , 
"was resolved to go again : this captain , taking 
a fancy to my conversation , which was not 
disagreable at that time , and hearing me say 
I had a mind te see the world , told me , if 
I would go the voyage with him , I should 
be his messmate , and his companion ; and 
if I could carry any thing with me, I should 
have ail the advantage of it that the trade 
would admit •> and perhaps I might meet* with 
some encouragement. 

I embraced the offer ; and entering into a 
strict friendship with this captain , who was 
an honest plain-dealing man , went the voyage 
with him , and carried a small adventure 
With me , which , by the desinterested honesty 
of my friend the captain , I increased very con- 
siderably y for I carried about 40/. insuch toys 
and trifles as the captain directed me to buy. 
This 4o/. I had mustered together , by the as- 
sistance of some of my relations whom 1 cor- 
responded with , and who , I , believe , got 
my father , or at least my mother , to contri- 
bute so much as that to my first adventure. 

This was the only voyage which I may say 
was successful in all my adventures , and which 
I owe to the integrity and honesty oi 'my friend 
the captain ; under whom I got a competent 
knowledge of the mathematics , and the rules 
of navigation : learned how to keep an account 
of the ship's course, take an observation , and , 



( 35i ) 

in short, to understand some things that were 
needful to be understood by a sailor : for , as 
he took delight to introduce me, 1 took delight 
to learn : and , in a word , this voyage mad© 
me both a sailor and a merchant; for I brought 
home five hundred pounds nine ounces of gold- 
dust for my adventure, which yielded me in 
London, at my return , almost 3ooZ. and this 
filled me with those aspiring thoughts which 
have since so compleated my ruin. 

Yet , even in this voyage , I had misfortu- 
nes too ; particularly , that I was continually 
sick , being thrown into a violent calenture 
by the excessive heat of the climate ; our prin- 
cipal trading being upon the, coast , from the 
lat. of 1 5 deg. N. even to the line itself. 

I was now set up for a Guinea trader 5 and 
my fried , to my great misfortune, dying soon 
after his arrival , I resolved to go the same 
voydge again ; and I embarked in the same 
vessel with one who was his mate in the for- 
mer voyage , and had now got the command 
of the ship. This was the unhappiest voyage 
that ever man made ; for though I did not 
carry quite 100/. of my new-gained wealth , 
so that I had 200/. left, and which I lodged 
with my friend's widow , who was very just 
to me , yet I fell into terrible misfortunes in 
this voyage ; and the first was this : viz. our 
ship making her course towards the Cauary 
Islands and the African shore , was surprized 
in the grey of the morning by a Moorish ro^- 
ver of Sallee , who gave chace to us with all 



( 3£i ) 
the sail she could make. We crouded also as 
much canvas as our yards would spread , or 
our masts carry , to have got clear ; but fin- 
ding the pirate gained upon us , and would 
certainly come up with us in a few hours , we 
prepared to fight ; our ship having twelve 
guns , and the rover eighteen. About three in 
the afternoon he came up with us 9 and, brin- 
ging to , by mistake , just athwart our quar- 
ter , instead of athwart our stern , as he in- 
tended , we brought eight of our guns to bear 
on that side, and poured in a broadside upon 
him , which made him sheer off again , after 
returning our fire, and pouring in also his small 
shot from near 200 men which he had on board. 
However , we had not a man touched , all* our 
men keeping close. He prepared to attack us 
again, and we to defend ourselves ; but laying 
us on board the next time upon our other quar- 
ter, he entered ninety men upon our decks f 
who immediately fell to cutting and hacking 
the decks and rigging. We plied them with 
small-shot , half-pikes , powder-chests , and 
such like , and cleared our deck of them twi- 
ce. However , to cut short this melancholy 
part of our story , our ship being disabled , 
and three of our men killed , and eight woun- 
ded , we were obliged to yield ', and were 
carried all prisoners into Sallee , a port be- 



longing to the Moors 









Daniel ueToe. 
FIN. 



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